


Breaking Through

by AronKBurns, young_monster



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dry Humping, Dylan in charge, Dylan is a janitor, First Time, Flustered George, George is an accountant, Griffin is a bit of a racist, Griffin is a fake name for George's dad cuz we didnt want to slander his actual dad, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced BDSM, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jay and Aron aren't together in a romantic sense but they do fuck, Jordon being touchy, M/M, No band AU, Scratching, Smut, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-08-29 11:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AronKBurns/pseuds/AronKBurns, https://archiveofourown.org/users/young_monster/pseuds/young_monster
Summary: George's father spent his entire life preparing his son to take over the family accounting firm. George has lived a sheltered life like few others; kept off the streets, away from the drugs and alcohol and parties. Then, George met him.As soon as they locked eyes, George knew... everything had to change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AwokenMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwokenMonster/gifts).



> We both appreciate and love comments!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We both appreciate and love comments!

“You’re really going to take on the whole business, George?” A sigh came out of George’s mouth as he tilted his head down. “I don’t have much of a choice, Dan.” Danny rolled his eyes, making sure to leave his change in the tip jar before grabbing his coffee. “You always have a choice, Georgie.”

“Not this time.” George grabbed his coffee too, not bothering to leave a tip for subpar coffee. “I’ll meet up with you after work, alright?” He shot Danny a small smile. “Okay, yeah, see you then. Have fun,” Danny said, giving his friend an all-too-knowing smile. George’s shoulders dropped. “Sure, fun.” He huffed out.

“You’re late, son.” Griffin’s voice was laced in disapproval as he peered at his on from the top steps to his office. “It’s five minutes, Dad. It’s not the end of the world.” Just to be safe, George checked his watch; he could never be certain if he was actually late or his father was just overreacting. Griffin Ragan stood up from his son’s office chair, filling the room with his overbearing presence. He was the epitome of the perfect businessman; clean, pressed suit, trimmed beard, stern eyes, and his head held high. Not a man to be messed with. “Punctuality is crucial, have you not learned that?”

George held back a sigh. “Yes, sir.”

“So why are you late then? This time?” His stern tone seemed to mock him. “I went to get coffee with Danny, we caught up for a little bit.” George went to his desk, ignoring the urge to ask if he could set down his drink on his own desk. “I lost track of time.” Griffin pursed his lips.

“It won’t happen again, Dad, I promise.”

“You have said that before, and you will say it again. Just don’t push it, alright?”

“Yes, sir. May I get to work now?” George felt like he was dealing with a child sometimes, a child with too much power.

“Yes, you may. I’ll be in my office, should you need anything.”

“Understood.” The doors shut and George felt like he could breathe for a moment.

After a couple hours of diligent, if boring, work, George decided he needed a break. His father had already popped into his office five times within the last two hours; it was time for some fresh air. George had barely left his office before his father found him. “Where are you going?” Griffin asked, crossing his arms with narrowed eyes and blocking his son’s path. “To take a walk. It’s nice outside, and I’ve been working for a few hours now.”

“Work doesn’t stop because you want a break.”

“It can definitely pause. I’ll barely be ten minutes, okay?” George skirted around his father and continued on his path. He was definitely walking a bit faster, but at this point, he couldn’t help it. With freedom in his grasp, George took a much-needed breath of air, just as he suspected, the fresh air was wonderful. Even if it was polluted city air, it still felt better than the stuffy inside of the Ragan accounting firm. His father’s tyrannical nature couldn’t extend into the outside lands.

“Ay, homie, fuckin’ share!” A deep and slightly accented voice cut through George’s peace. He narrowed his eyes at the sudden intrusion. He knew that voice, sort of; it was familiar if nothing else. It had come from behind the building, which was a little worrying. Only bad things happened behind buildings, he thought, his brain going back to all the gang movies he had ever seen. Preparing himself for the worst, George trekked to where the voice had come from. What he saw was definitely not the worst, but still not good. One of the building’s janitors was leaning against the wall, talking with another man who George was certain didn’t work for his family.

The new man was wearing tattered, faded clothes, with dark hair and tunnels in his ears.  To top it off, he was wearing a snapback backward. Who dressed this kid? Not someone from around here, that much was certain. George watched as the two men - men was pushing it, they were definitely younger than him - shared a strange-looking cigarette.

“Thanks for bringing this, Jay,” The janitor boy said. “You have no idea how much this gets me through the day.”

“Considering you’d probably be dead without something in your system, I can imagine.” The other one, Jay apparently, snatched the cigarette back. “Are you sure you won’t get busted, Dyl? It’s like, the middle of the day.” The man cocked his eyebrow at the other. _Dylan_ , George thought, more than a little surprised he remembered the name of one of the help. His name is Dylan.

“Who cares? I’d be surprised if any of them actually knew, you know?” Jay scoffed. “Rich people know what drugs are, man. They’re the ones who peddle the shit.”

“Not these guys, trust me.” Dylan grabbed the weird cigarette, tapping it against the wall before taking a drag.  Jay shook his head. “I still can’t believe you’re working for some stuck-up assholes, man.” He glanced at his own watch and groaned. “Speaking of which, I gotta go. Duty calls.” Dylan held out his free hand. “See you back at the apartment, unless you’re going out tonight.” Jay bumped their fists in a well-coordinated fashion. “Nah, not tonight. We have enough booze at home, I’ll drink that shit first.” He had a mocking smile on his face. “Drink without me, and you’re dead,” Dylan promised. Jay gave the janitor finger guns and backed away. “Sure thing, bro.”

George waited until the other man had gotten into his outdated car and had driven away, before going over to the janitor. “You should not be smoking while you’re working,” He reprimanded, crossing his arms and standing up straight. He ignored the odor given off by the cigarette; it definitely wasn’t nicotine. Dylan blinked once and bit his lip as if he were trying to hold back a smile. “I’m not workin’, though. I’m on a break.” George pursed his lips. “You should not smoke on company property at all, it’s a health hazard.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Dylan said, bringing the cigarette up to his lips but not actually smoking it. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Put it out,” George demanded.

“Can’t I just finish it? It’ll take like two seconds, dude.”

“No. Put it out.”

Dylan narrowed his eyes. “Can you even tell me what to do? I’m pretty sure I was hired by your pops, and I’m pretty sure you ain’t him. I mean, if you want, you can go tell on me to your daddy, have him come to yell at me, but that seems like a lot of effort, you know? Especially when by the time that’s all done, I’ll be done with my smoke.” He rested his chin between his thumb and index finger, a cheeky smirk forming. George clenched his jaw; he was already tired of dealing with this disrespectful little janitor. He couldn’t wait until he was truly the boss. “Just get rid of it, please.” He turned on his heel and stalked back inside.

So much for a relaxing break.

When he returned to his office, he wasn’t surprised to see his father sitting in his chair. Again. “I do not like that janitor, Alvarez,” Griffin told him. “I do not trust him.”

“Then why did you hire him?” George sat down on the leather loveseat that was pushed into the corner of his office. Griffin huffed. “He had a promising first impression, but that only masked his hoodlum nature.”

“Hoodlum?”

“He lives in the bad part of town, son. He’s not trustworthy.” Griffin wore a scowl.

“I got that, but why are you telling me this?”

“I want you to keep an eye on him. He could be a thief, or something worse, and you’re going to have to watch out for that.”

George almost scoffed, but then he realized his father was completely serious. “You really think he’s going to do something? He could be fired in an instant, and he seems like he needs this job.”

“He needs this, but he does not care.” Griffin shook his head. “And a man who does not care is always partial to doing something stupid and potentially life-ruining. So keep an eye on him, understand?”

“Yes,” George sighed.

“What was that?” Griffin’s icy eyes pointed at George.

“Yes, sir.”

Griffin smiled, but it wasn’t a heart-warming, I’m-proud-of-you-son smile. It was cold, just another way to taunt the power he had over his son. “Perfect. Now get back to work.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, Aron Kane Burns, a Latino, give this fanfiction the Brown Stamp of approval


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We both appreciate and love comments!

It wasn't long until the Latino janitor finished his blunt and went back inside for work. Dylan was on a pleasant high, still decently coherent of all things around him. He grabbed his cart of cleaning equipment and set off.

Dylan fumbled with his cleaning schedule, still being new, seeing that he had to clean room 314. Meaning he had to go to the third floor. _Fuckin’ hate elevators after blazin’._ He mumbled in his head. The elevator went up and his brain went down, causing Dylan to groan in pain. “Fuckin’...”

After the brain shaker was over, Dylan roamed the halls of the prestigious building, passing many displays of overly expensive decor. _This place just screams ‘I am so much better than you!’, Jesus Christ._ He had finally found room 314, following protocol by knocking before entering. “Cleaning service!” He called as a warning before actually stepping in.

Dylan was given clear instructions on how to interact with the elite employees as if he were an ignorant child.

“Enter.” Came an, unfortunately, familiar voice. _Aw jeez._

Dylan walked in to see the unamused expression of his boss's son, he couldn't help the growing grin on his face. “Did ya ever tell your daddy on me?” He leaned his elbow on his cart, nearly falling after the wheels moved.

George glanced up with a glare, seemingly choosing not to speak. He went back to his paperwork, pencil scrapping paper filled the room. Until the janitor decided to open his mouth as he dusted around.

Dylan went to a bookshelf that was filled to the brim with books with titles Dylan had never seen before. He hummed in curiosity as he brushed away the small amount of dust resting on the spines.

“When do you even get to read? Ya seem like all ya do is work.” Dylan retorted.

Still nothing but a blue-eyed glare.

The janitor let out a chuckle of amusement. “What? Too good to talk to me?” His arms crossed, hip popping to the side a bit.

George let out an irritating hum. “Could you pipe down so I may continue my work?”

Dylan found amusement in the way the rich boy talked. He shook his head with a smile on his face. “Oh, but of course! Anything for you, Mr. Ragan.” Dylan held his arm out as if to appear fancy.

A sigh worked its way out of George's mouth as he looked back down at his work.

Dylan waltzed his way over to the windows, there weren't many of them in this room. He made sure to wipe up very well, leaving no traces from the rag he used. “It looks kinda nice out, don't ya think?” It was out before he could take it back.

George willed himself not to look up, his father wouldn't be happy if he found out the janitor was distracting him from work. “I'm sure it's lovely outside.” He simply said.

“You got a nice view,” Dylan observed. “You can even see the park from here. It doesn’t look so shitty from a distance, huh?”

“You should see my father’s view-” George realized what he was doing, and quickly cut himself off with a cough. He shouldn’t be entertaining the help, not when he had work to do. “Yes, it’s a view.” He attempted to emulate the stern tone he’s heard throughout his entire life.

Dylan smirked, leaving the windows and heading for the small loveseat that needed to be dusted. “Ya can talk normal, right? Like, human to human, nice kinda talking? Full sentences and everything? Maybe not about work?”

George took a deep breath; now he finally looked up, He locked eyes with the janitor, harsh blue meeting warm brown. “Could you please be quiet and finish your work so I may do the same? Unlike yours, my work requires full concentration, which I cannot attain with your incessant talking.”

Dylan held his hands up in mock surrender, eyes wide feigned shock and smirk fighting to appear. He mouthed something to the floor that looked suspiciously like “damn”, then flicked his eyes back to George. “Alright, yeah, sure. I’ll, ah, let’cha get back to those… fascinating numbers and whatever it is. I mean, if that’s cool with you, boss… ‘s son.”

If looks could kill, George’s glare alone would decimate an entire population.

“I’ll take that a yes, and finish up here.”

“That would be wise of you,” George spoke through clenched teeth. If he had to deal with this idiotic janitor every day, he’d have to get dental surgery from grinding his teeth all the time. Not that he couldn’t afford it, it would just be a major inconvenience.

Dylan already had his back turned on his future boss, doing his job like he meant to. Dusting the fancy leather couch, tidying up the fancy bookshelf, taking care of the fancy office he could never have.

He could really use another blunt right now.

“I’m going to ask you right now, do not come in to clean my office tomorrow,” George said; he kept his eyes on his work, his tone business-like, and his posture straight.

Dylan clicked his tongue. “I don’t think I can do that. Your pops hired me to clean, and your office is part’a that.” He didn’t really know why he wanted to come back here tomorrow. He just knew it was kinda fun to get under the man’s skin; it helped that it was pretty damn easy.

George resolved to not speak anymore. Maybe the janitor will get bored and finally leave. Then he can get some real work finished.

“Silent treatment again? So soon?” Dylan made sure to keep tidying up - now, he was wiping stuff down with his rag. Door handles have a metric fuck ton of germs, you know.

George resisted the urge to clench his pen in his fist; he might break it, and he didn’t want to waste a nice pen.

“Alright, well, I’m done for the day.” Dylan gave his boss’ son a wide smile but dropped it when the other man didn’t even look up.

George just waved his hand in a cold dismissal.

The janitor sighed dramatically as he repacked his cart and headed for the door. “No goodbye? Fine. See you later, man.”

The last thing Dylan heard before he closed the door was a muttered “Unfortunately.”

\----

Dylan took the bus home that night, as usual. He was getting pretty pissy about his job, he already knew his boss had something against him. There was a highlight though, a smile grew on his face. That George guy, very fun to play with. Dylan cringed softly. _Ok, bad word choice. Maybe._

The Latino relocked the door to his apartment after stepping inside- better safe than sorry. “Jay! ‘M home!” He called, kicking his sneakers off.

“‘Bout time!” Jorel came out of the kitchen. “You're just in time for some good ole Mac n cheese.” The Italian smiled, the dude was shit at cooking but at least he could manage to make Mac and cheese on the stove.

Dylan slumped down onto their kitchen table. “Hit me.” He smirked tiredly. Jorel grabbed a bowl, filling it with food and setting it down for Dylan. “Bon Appetit!” Jay said in his best French voice.

Dylan chuckled in amusement, beginning to eat. “After this, I've got some edibles that’re ready!” Jay was a god damn angel at times. Dylan's face lit up, eating faster.

“How'd the rest of work go today?”

Such an innocent question provoked strange emotions from the Latino. “Being around so many bull shit rich snobs fuckin sucks, ‘Be careful with that, Alvarez! It's worth more than you own!’, assholes like that need to fuckin’ not.” His mind flashed back to the bosses son and things felt less bad.

“There's this guy I like to mess with, his daddy's actually the boss.” He couldn't help smiling to himself.

Jay, on the other hand, wasn't amused. “You're pressing the buttons of a man that could get you fired?” Jorel had the look of someone talking to an idiot.

Dylan shook his head. “Nah man, it's not… Completely like that. He's just, naive and talks funny. I like to mess with him. Though,” He frowned softly. “He acts like he's got a stick up his ass like 24/7 which gets annoying. Bet if he'd loosen up he'd be more fun.”

Jorel tsked at him in disapproval. “I could make so many gay jokes from just that sentence. But I won't.” A small teasing smirk formed on the Italians face. “I think you wanna get to know him outside of work.”

Dylan shrugged. “Well yeah, so?”

The Italian’s smirk grew. “You didn't let me finish, I think you wanna get to know him cause you like him.” He had that stupid cute look on his face as Dylan threw a macaroni at him.

“Shut up! What are you, twelve?” His response was weak. “Why would I like him? He's a stuck up little bitch and he talks like an old-timey professor! He's got such a dull personality too!” Dylan stopped himself, pursuing his lip. “Shit, I'm gay for him.”

Jorel chuckled. “Does he look like your boss?”

Dylan cringed. “Fuck no! Griffin looks like a goddamn egg with his head shaved and he's got these cold ass eyes.” Dylan's expression softened. “George has eyes that hide all happy emotions, I bet that's his dad's fault.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “How long have you known this guy?”

Dylan groaned. “Stop mocking me already.”

Jay shrugged. “I'm just sayin’, don't you think you're thinking a bit irrationally?”

Dylan frowned. “I've hardly done anything! Lay off, Jay bitch.”

\-----

The door to his office opened for a third time that hour. A third time. And it was only 5:25. George’s grip on his pen tightened, and the urge to chuck it at the door was almost overwhelming.

Then Danny poked his head through the door, and George felt himself relax.

“You look tense.” Danny let himself in, making sure to close the door then settling on the loveseat. “Have you been working all day?”

“You have to ask?” George set his pen down, pushing his chair away from the desk so he had to room to stretch a bit. “Yes, and today sucked.”

Danny cocked his head. “Why did today suck?” He asked. He was always willing to listen to George’s problems and was always willing to help. Truly too good for the world, Danny was.

“I just had to deal with this, this _kid_ who’s on the cleaning crew and doesn’t know how to respect his employer. He kept talking back, for no reason at all. It was just ridiculous.” George’s lips unintentionally twisted into a scowl at the mere thought of that janitor.

“Did he at least clean?” Danny asked, eyeing the office down. “It looks like he did. It looks like he did a good job.”

Despite his irritation, George could see that the janitor did indeed do a good job. That still didn’t mean those words would ever leave his mouth. “Sure, he cleaned.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dylan,” George answered immediately. “Dylan Alvarez.”

Danny hummed. “Cool name.”

George blinked in confusion. “I guess? He’s still a disrespectful punk type.”

“If he does his job, who cares?”

“I do! I’m going to have to deal with him when I’m the boss, and I can’t fire him without legal cause. I checked the rule book.”

Danny shrugged, messing around with a loose thread from the leather seat. “You seem to be making a big deal out of someone you don’t seem to like, does that mean you’re interested?” He teased, knowing his friend could be so naive at times.

George really did care about Danny, as a friend, but when he picked at that loose thread of his seat is when he considered maybe leaving the country. “Could you please stop that?”

Danny left the thread alone with an amused smirk. “Sorry.” His tone indicated he wasn’t actually sorry.

“And I am _not_ interested in the janitor, for the record. He’s just annoying.” George crossed his arms, much like a petulant child might.

“Uh huh.” Danny’s smile grew, clearly not believing his friend.

“I’m not. Interested.”

“Sure thing, Georgie.”

George barely refrained from rolling his eyes. It was a sign of disrespect. “I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“I know, Georgie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, Aron Kane Burns, a Latino, give this fanfiction the Brown Stamp of approval


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We both appreciate and love comments!

It was a Sunday, the only day of the week where none of the employees had to go to work, including George. He took full advantage of this and got to sleep past 6 am, waking up at 8:30 am. George took a shower and walked out of his house. Destination: Starbucks.

It was about 10 am by the time he got there, a bit of an odd time for a small breakfast but George was too content to care. There was only one other person in line but they seemed to be taking a long time, making George frown.Two minutes had passed and George reached his peak, looking over to see what was going on. _Just my luck_ . The barista was a young woman with dyed green hair, she was flirting with the man in front of her. **The damn janitor.**

The janitor’s hair was curly and worn down as usual with a dark grey beanie. George raised an eyebrow. The man had trimmed his beard and looked presentable for once.

“Excuse me.” George cut in, his tone more irritated than he intended. He very much ignored the janitor, instead, giving the barista an impatient look.

The barista flushed, realizing there was another customer. The janitor, however, looked more than a little irritated. He glared at George before returning his attention to the barista, finally giving her his order.

He ordered a white chocolate mocha of all things. George couldn’t help but scrunch his nose up at the janitor’s choice in beverages. There was such a thing as too much sugar in one drink. When the janitor moved to the other counter to wait for his drink, he crossed his arms and continued to glance at George.

George wouldn’t have cared - nope, not even a little - but he noticed the green-haired barista writing her number on the janitor’s beverage.

Having accepted that the peaceful mood of his morning was now at least partially ruined, George curtly ordered a black coffee with two croissants. He briefly debated whether or not to stand near Dylan or stand on the other side of the room.

“One tasty drink for a Dylan.” Came the young girl's voice, a girly smirk on her face. Dylan leaned his front further against the counter. “Why thank you, Ana.” His voice had a smooth tone that caught the attention of George.

George couldn’t believe he was even thinking it, but Dylan had some decent charisma. Dylan looked at George with a smile that only meant trouble. “You wanna sit together or you too good for me?”  

“I have to work,” George instantly replied, a lie that was almost second-nature at this point.

But Dylan wasn’t having it. “No, ya don’t. Come sit with me, be a human for once.” Dylan's smile reminded him of the Devil’s, so inviting but hiding wickedness.

And yet George couldn’t bring himself to say no. “Fine. Just this one time, you hear me?”

“Why?” Dylan cocked his head, a fake pout replacing that deceiving smile. “Papa Ragan gonna throw a fit?”

“Don’t call him that, he’s still your employer. And yes, he would,” George said, looking unamused. A chuckle escaped Dylan's lips before he looked back at George. “I meant you, Papa Ragan.” His eyes held a special light in them. George physically flinched back, he didn't exactly know what _that_ was supposed to mean but he had a feeling it was an… Adult reference. “Excuse me?!” Every blood cell moved to the flustered man’s face.

Dylan, on the other hand, burst out laughing, doubling over while pointing at George. His laugh wasn't as annoying as he suspected. “Holy shit! Your fuckin’ face!” Dylan gasped out between laughter.

George's face hardened as he tried to, once more, look professional. “Very humorous.” George's tone said he was done but his face said he had never felt so awkward before in his life. Dylan was reduced to giggles before he was done. “That was amazing.” A throat cleared from beside them. 

“One black coffee and two croissants.” The green haired woman looked drastically different in expression, her once bubbly look now a cold one. George took a breath before taking his coffee and bag. “Come here,” Dylan tugged on George's sleeve. “Let's sit back here, it's my favorite spot.” He still seemed full of mischief but looked calmer. 

 _This kid…_   

The two sat down in the back near a window, George tried not to keep eye contact. “Why're you so weird?” This question could’ve come from either of them but strangely enough, it came from the curly haired janitor. 

George frowned. “Me? You’re accusing me of being ‘weird’ after that… scene you caused back there?” The accountant had yet to completely recover from his escalated emotions. 

Dylan found his reaction amusing. “Get over it, it was a joke. You’re the weird one here, you talk like you're a middle-aged man.” Dylan teased, smirking softly. “How old even are you?’

“I never age,” George said, allowing himself one joke for the first in many years. “I’m 26.” Dylan squinted his eyes. “You’re old.”

“And how old are you?” George huffed, grabbing his coffee and taking the lid off the cup. “Turned 21 last April,” Dylan said proudly, leaning back in his seat with a growing grin. He hadn’t even touched his own drink yet. George blinked. “I’m really not that much older than you.” 

 _I’d hope not,_ Dylan thought to himself. _I’m not that into doms_. “You’re still old,” He said instead. “Anyways,” George said loudly. “Why’re you so weird?” He mimicked Dylan’s tone. Dylan narrowed his eyes a little. “What’s weird to you? I feel like that means something else to me than you, man.” George rolled his eyes. “You just called me weird and now you’re offended when I say it back to you?”

Dylan raised his hands, palms out. “I ain’t offended, just curious. You’re, um… uptight, sometimes. A lot of the times.” George rolled his eyes. “It’s called being professional.” He took a sip of his coffee, looking everywhere except the janitor in front of him.

Dylan cocked his head. “It’s also called having a stick up your ass.” George coughed, almost choking on his coffee. He stared at the janitor. “No, it isn’t.” Dylan cracked up, covering his mouth as to not be loud. He giggled softly and looked at George. “You’re so easy to mess with.” “I am not!” George exclaimed. Then he realized he was wrong, and quickly took another sip of coffee. “Hush.” The strange part was, Dylan’s playfulness seemed to be rubbing off on him, George almost wanted to pout.

Dylan chuckled softly and leaned his elbows against the table. “Why are you so uptight?” He didn’t sound accusing, just curious. George pressed his lips together, suppressing a frown. “It’s how I was raised, I guess. Always professional, no matter what the situation would be.”

“That sounds awful,” Dylan remarked. He rested his chin on his hands, tilting his head just a little. “It… It’s all I know. It’s not all that bad if that’s what you think, its mostly my-” _What am I doing? I don’t even know this annoying kid!_ George shook his head, looking out the large window. He had never really thought of it but, he was a lot more upset about all of that than he realized. Somehow, maybe Dylan realized it. He seemed to sober up, his attitude dropping to a little more serious tone. “It’s okay, man. You don’t have to talk about it, but sometimes it’s good to talk, you know?”

“I don’t really have… someone to fully trust,” George said slowly as if he was just realizing it. “Why does it… why do I want to talk to you about it?” His voice had a mix of confusion and sadness. _Why don’t I feel comfortable talking to Danny yet I trust this, basically, stranger?_

 _How had he gone his life with no one to talk to?_ Dylan thought, unable to even imagine just how damn lonely this man must’ve been as a kid. “I don’t know about why,” Dylan admitted. “That’s outta my reach, but I do know that I’m here for you, even if we don’t know jack shit about each other.”

George blinked, smiling softly as he coughed a bit. “Thank you, this… this means a lot.” Dylan was about to say something, when the green haired barista walked up to their table, still wearing her scowl. “You two… gentlemen, need to leave. There’s a 30-minute loitering limit.” Dylan stood up, stretching his arms behind his back and giving George a curious stare. “Wanna go back to my place? I feel like if you went home you’d just work and not enjoy a day off.”

 The gears in George's head seemed to be moving before he responded. “That sounds nice, do you have a car?”

“Nope,” Dylan said, popping the ‘p’ with a cheeky smile. “Can your rich-people shoes survive a bit of walking?” George looked unamused before giving Dylan a small smile. “I think they can handle it.” Dylan grinned. “Then let’s get going, homie.” He linked arms with George while practically dragging the man out. “Homie?” George asked, taking a second to get his arm in the right place along with Dylan’s.

“Homie,” Dylan answered. “Friend, bud, dude, pal, amigo.” George huffed. “Yes, I understand that, but why.” Dylan chuckled, walking them across the street. “It's a fun name. George is a very serious name, maybe I should call you something like-”

“Don’t. I know what you’re going to suggest.” 

“I could’ve said anything, man.”

George stopped walking, almost pulling Dylan off his feet. “Were you going to say Georgie?” Dylan grinned, his arm that was around George’s tightened in an affectionate way. “Georgie doesn’t sound that bad.” 

“Yes, it does. Please don’t.” 

Dylan lead George across another street, tsking gently. “You’re no fun, homie. You gotta have some fun in life, ya know?”

“I wouldn’t know much about that,” George admitted. Dylan shook his arm, lightly jostling the accountant. “I’ll teach you, it’s easy.” George didn’t reply; he was too busy looking around his new surroundings. He was sort of surprised to see how filthy some parts of the city could get, especially that apartment complex they were nearing. Suddenly the janitor took a key out and went inside. _Oh._

Dylan noticed the accountant’s distaste. “Look, I know it ain’t a palace or whatever, but shit, it’s home.” He beckoned George with a soft smile and a wave of his hand, and he followed without a second thought. George felt slightly embarrassed for his reaction. “I didn’t mean to be rude.” He gave Dylan a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sure your home is lovely.”

“Lovely,” Dylan echoed, leading George past a broken elevator and towards a stairwell. “Now that’s a word I never would’a used for my place. I don’t hate it.” George was saved from replying by the two of them reaching the top of the stairs - they were on the third floor - and heading for the closest door on their left. Dylan stuck the key into the lock, attempting to turn it several times before it actually unlocked. “It likes to get stuck,” he said with a sheepish grin. He threw open the door and stepped aside. “Welcome to my home.”

George braced himself, fully expecting a pigsty, and stepped inside. In actuality, the apartment wasn’t as filthy as he expected, but it was by no means clean. The main entrance lead into a tiny living room, with cheap furniture and a dirty-carpeted floor. “My roommate won’t be home for a few hours,” Dylan said, stepping past George and shutting the door. “We can just chill for a while, whatever you wanna do.”

“Chill?” George asked before he could stop himself. He immediately flushed red and dropped his gaze to the floor. Dylan giggled a little, kicking off his shoes. “Yes, Georgie, chill. As in hanging out, relaxing, you know, things that are good to do instead of work, work, and more work.” 

George almost hesitated to take his shoes off, he didn't want to trust the carpet. The whole apartment had a strange smell to it, come to think about it, it reminded him of when he first met Dylan when he was smoking that strange cigarette. But he would’ve felt even more out of place with his nice shoes in this not-so-nice apartment, so he slipped them off and placed them neatly next to Dylan’s.

“Want anything to drink?” Dylan called out, already heading for the tiny kitchen off of the living room. “We have beer, tequila, whiskey, moonshine, vodka, orange juice, and water.” George shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you.” He sat down on the worn couch, awkwardly squeezing himself into the corner. “It’s bottled if that helps.” Dylan reentered the living room, carrying two bottles of water. “Jay, my roomie, won’t drink from the tap. He says it got some shit like e. Coli or whatever.”

  _Considering how run-down the neighborhood is, I could believe that_ , George thought to himself. He took the bottle and watched as Dylan sat next to him. He's sitting… A little close…

Dylan leaned back, stretching a bit. “I wanna talk some more, get to know each other, ya know?” He grinned, their knees were touching. George nodded, coughing from the smell. “Uh, how about 20 questions? I'll start, what's that strange smell?” Dylan snorted out a laugh. “Rich people really don’t know what drugs are, ey?” A small smirk forming.

“I-I know what drugs are! I’ve had friends who have done them before!” The once professional accountant whined softly. Dylan’s smirk grew. “If you say so, bud. My turn, have you ever disobeyed your dad before?”

His head tilted to the side. George actually scoffed. “No, only if I wanted to bear his disappointment. And trust me, he’s not subtle about that stuff.” “He sounds like a wonderful guy to meet,” Dylan said, stretching his arms out over the back of the couch. Dangerously near George’s shoulder. 

_This feels… strange, but not unwanted._

“Anywho, what’s your question, Georgie?” Dylan teased. “Why do you have so many alcohols? Types, of alcohol,” George asked, genuinely curious. “My dad only keeps ours in storage until it’s time for one of his business parties. But even then, there’s not a lot of kinds.” Dylan shrugged. “You have some different kinds, man. You can’t just drink vodka for your entire life. I mean, you could, but you’d get fucked up.” 

George cringed slightly. “Must you use those words?” Dylan cocked an eyebrow. “Must you have a stick up your ass?” George should’ve been accustomed to Dylan’s choice of words by now but he couldn’t help but feel slightly irritated at the incessant cursing. 

Dylan chuckled. “So easy to mess with, just say fuck.” He poked George lightly in the ribs, making him let out an embarrassing squeak. “I’m not going to say such a-” Dylan poked him again, more towards his stomach. “Come on,” Dylan whined with a smirk. “Do it, ya know ya wanna.”

“No, I won’t,” George said between gasps and pokes. He was almost about to flip himself over the side of the couch if it meant his torture would cease. “I’m not going to say it!” Dylan started poking harder, tickling George’s sides. By this point, George’s face was flushed red, and he yelped with every poke.

Dylan turned to face George, moving closer than he anticipated, tickling viciously with both hands. George was laughing uncontrollably, with his eyes shut tight, his arms trying to protect himself. Dylan was leaning over George when he realized how close they were. Dylan ended up between George’s thighs, almost against his pelvis, George was panting with a flushed look with his hands on Dylan’s shoulders.

Dylan stopped tickling but didn’t move away. It took George a moment but he calmed down a bit and opened his eyes, panting softly while looking up at Dylan. George knew this was inappropriate, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. He’s never been this close to any person before. It was almost scary, but also… kind of fun.

Before he knew what he was doing, Dylan leaned down, pressing their lips together in a light kiss. George’s eyes widened, his face turning a darker shade. He felt a shiver go down his spine as Dylan’s lips pushed lightly against his, George shut his eyes again.

Dylan almost lost himself in the kiss, but then he realized just who exactly he was kissing - _his_ _future_ _fucking_ _boss_ \- and pulled himself away. He met George’s gaze with horror, afraid that he just ruined any possibility of any kind of relationship. George just grinned, cheeks still very much flushed, and poked Dylan in the stomach.

 Dylan squealed, falling back. He was extremely ticklish. George could tell; he got his revenge, tickling Dylan’s tummy relentlessly. Dylan squirmed and laughed harder than he ever has before. “Shit! Whyyyy?!” He whined. It was George’s turn to face Dylan, managing to lean over him. Dylan had squirmed his way between George’s legs, whining, arms crossed to protect his stomach.

George finally paused, letting his hands rest on the couch as he came to a horrible realization: he was getting hard.

Dylan panted hard as he leaned his head back, calming down. “Shit.” He chuckled softly, raising his arms to stretch over his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal his pelvis.

Yep, George was definitely getting hard. _This was not ideal._

Dylan smiled up at George, clueless. “What’d ya wanna do now?” George managed a half-grin and shifted away from the man beneath him. “I’m fine with watching a movie or something,” He answered. _Anything that means I don’t have to look at you right now,_ he thought. Dylan sat up, his nose almost touching George’s before he kissed him softly. “Sure, lemme get some chips, kay?” He got off the couch and went into the kitchen.

“Where’s your bathroom?” George called out, desperately needing to be away from the couch right now. Dylan poked his head out of the kitchen. “It’s down that hallway behind ya, first door on the right.” George quickly got up and went where he was told.

The bathroom was about as clean as the rest of the apartment and just as small; it could barely fit a sink, toilet, and grimy looking bathtub. George went right for the sink, turning on the cold water and splashing some on his still-red face. He looked down, staring at his feet. “Please calm down, this is not the place nor the time.” 

He waited for a few minutes until he calmed down enough for it not be an issue, he exited the bathroom. Dylan was already settled on the couch, this time with a blanket, a bowl of chips, and two bottles of beer. “What took ya so long? You jerk off in there or some shit?” He smiled. 

George coughed and shook his head. “Nope, I just got lost in your bathroom. It’s a maze.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, Aron Kane Burns, a Latino, give this fanfiction the Brown Stamp of approval


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We both appreciate and love comments!

The movie had finally ended. It was one of those action films that drag on for just the right amount of time. About half-way through, George’s _situation_ had fully resolved itself, and he was finally able to relax against Dylan. The janitor had thrown the blanket across their legs, and the bowl of chips had been abandoned on the floor.

George took a moment to stretch, reaching his arms above his head, unknowingly giving Dylan an invitation. Dylan scooted closer to George, resting his head against his collarbone, pulling George’s arm around him.

“W-what are you doing?” George asked, allowing the janitor to press up against him. “I’m cuddling,” Dylan answered.  “I really like you, if you haven’t noticed.” The janitor chuckled. “Wanna be my boyfriend?”

“Eh-wha, what?” George spluttered, eyes wide; he’s never had a girlfriend- let alone a boyfriend. “Isn’t that like… weird? Like I think my dad has said something negative about it before.” George was inexperienced with homosexuality, in practice and knowledge.

“Your dad probably thinks of everyone who isn’t rich and straight as negative,” Dylan said, rolling his eyes. A moment of doubt crossed Dylan’s mind. “You like me too, right?” _I never actually asked him..._  George nodded many times. “Y-Yeah, I do, I uh, I really do.”

Dylan looked embarrassed and moved to the other side of the couch, covering his face. “Uhhhhg you weren’t into it.” _I’m a damn fool! Of course, he’s not actually into guys, he just didn’t know what to do._

George scooted over, pulling Dylan’s hands from his face and holding them tightly. “Dylan, I wasn’t lying, I like you! Like a… like a boyfriend, if that’s okay.” Dylan blinked, taking a second to process. His face got warm and he nodded. “Yeah, that’s great.” He noticed that George was still holding his hands, and smiled softly. He leaned forward, but this time, George met him halfway for a kiss. Dylan hooked his arms around George’s neck as he tried to deepen the kiss, not succeeding due to George’s inability to relax some more.

Dylan pulled away, his usual smirk returning just a bit. “I’m guessing you’ve never kissed anyone before, huh?” George looked away with an embarrassed look. “I haven’t but I’m trying.” He gave Dylan a small smile. “You’re doing good for your first time,” Dylan said. “But you could definitely use some practice.” Dylan moved George’s legs before sitting on his lap, kissing him again.

George didn’t know exactly where to put his hands, but he figured that resting them on Dylan’s hips was okay. Other than that, he had no idea what he was doing, or what he was supposed to be doing. _Either way, this does feel nice_ , he thought. He and Dylan eventually found their rhythm until Dylan bit down gently on George’s bottom lip.

George gasped, pulling away and staring at Dylan with wide eyes. “Did you bite me?” He asked, bringing his hand up to his lip. “Why?” Dylan rolled his eyes. “Cause it’s hot, Georgie.” He leaned in and nipped at George’s lip again, tugging it a bit before pushing his tongue in.

Now, George didn’t exactly know what was considered hot, but he did know that the situation in his pants was getting difficult again. And with Dylan straight up on top of him, it would be more than a little challenging to conceal another boner. Dylan pulled back again, panting softly. “I’ll show you more of how to do that later.” He winked.

“I think I’d like that,” George admitted, attempting to shift his legs without Dylan noticing. Except he did. He totally noticed. “Getting excited on me?” Dylan asked, his smirk growing. George flushed darkly, covering his face with his hands. “Shut up.” Dylan tilted his head. “I’m sure this isn’t your first time gettin’ a stiffy, how often do ya jerk it?” Dylan lost all shame years ago.

George however, still had all of his. “I’m not answering that.” Dylan narrowed his eyes. “Have you _ever_ jerked it?” George looked at the floor. “Of course I have, I was a teenage boy too.” Dylan began slowly trailing his hand from George’s shoulder, down his torso. George’s eyes widened a bit as he looked back up.

“What’s happening?” George asked, eyeing Dylan’s hand as it continued to move down. “What are you doing?” Dylan bit his lip. “I wanna touch you,” He looked at George. “Can I?” George swallowed, eyes growing impossibly wider. “Eh, um, yeah.” Dylan chuckled softly, slowly pushing his hand up George’s shirt. George had the typical build of someone who ate fine but didn’t exercise, so there was a bit of stomach to rub along with ribs to trail his fingers against. He pulled George’s shirt up and over his head, leaving the flustered accountant bare.

Dylan then pulled his own shirt off, throwing it somewhere behind him. He took George’s hands and guided them to his sides, placing his own hands on George’s upper arms. “Is this okay?” He asked softly. George nodded slowly, cheeks still burning and eyes glazed over. “This is more than okay.”

George's eyes wandered down Dylan's shoulders, to his chest and stomach, admiring the tattoos he had. Dylan chuckled softly. “I can tell, you’re not exactly subtle.” He wiggled his eyebrow before shifting his hips against Georges lap.

George gasped, fingers digging into Dylan’s side. “I’m not exactly used to this, you know,” Dylan smirked, shifting his hips again. _I like his nails on me._ “Oh, I know.” George dragged his nails down Dylan’s sides as a flurry of sensations hit under his jeans. If he wasn’t hard before, he definitely was now. Except this time, Dylan was too; his sweatpants were no good at hiding it at all.

Dylan pushed George’s chest down so he was fully straddling him, he moved George’s hands more at his back as Dylan leaned over George. “Lemme make you feel good, Georgie.” Suddenly George didn’t hate being called Georgie anymore, as long as it came from Dylan. Dylan moved his hips in a circular motion, eyelids shutting halfway as he panted softly. George shut his eyes, digging his nails harder into Dylan’s back as he was ground on. Dylan loved George's nails against him, moaning softly in pained pleasure.

George let out an embarrassingly loud moan and clamped a hand over his mouth. Dylan grabbed the hand, moving it back to where it was. “Don’t hold back now, Georgie, let it out,” he said, slowing his movements just enough. George let out small whines as he kept his eyes shut out of embarrassment. “O-ok, just, please… keep going.” And damn if Dylan wasn’t going to listen. He went from teasing movements to impatient humping, Dylan leaned his head forward to rest against George’s as he panted and moaned softly.

George’s mind clouded over with pleasure, and he could barely keep himself from shouting with each movement. “Come on, Georgie,” Dylan panted out, grinding down harder against George’s pelvis. “Tell me how much you like this. Tell me how good you feel being under me.” George just scratched Dylan’s back in response, letting out another moan. Dylan shut his eyes, arching his back a bit as he grunted.

“You gonna cum for me, Georgie?” Dylan shuffled back, sitting on George's thighs as he sloppily undid the buttons on George's jeans. George gasped softly and watched as Dylan tugged down his jeans just enough to let his erection poke out. Dylan had a crave filled look as he pushed his thumb against the wet spot that was on George's boxers, right against the tip. George flinched and gasped through his nose before Dylan fully took George's erection out of his wet boxers.

George wanted to shut his eyes, he'd never been so naked in front of anyone like this in his life! But he craved to watch what Dylan was going to do to him. The light-skinned dick stood with precum dripping from its slit, twitching softly in anticipation. Dylan stepped off of George for a moment, making George fear he was going to leave him before Dylan pulled off his own sweatpants and boxers then sitting back on George, Dylan's darker skinned dick almost touching George's.

“Touch me, Georgie.” Dylan breathed out as he took hold of George's penis, rubbing it with soft strokes. George wanted to, he really did, but… “I don’t know-” Dylan huffed, grabbing George’s hand and placing it on his own dick. “Do what I do,” He ordered, lightly pumping George’s erection.

George tried his best to mimic Dylan, but focusing was difficult to do with a flurry of sensations clouding his mind. “Fuck, Georgie, touch me like you mean it,” Dylan said, tightly gripping George's dick for a bare second. George tried to keep up with Dylan’s pace, but he just couldn’t do it.

Dylan was flicking his wrist, stroking George’s dick with skill; the familiar pull began building in the base of George’s stomach as he moaned out with a small whine. He wouldn’t last much longer. Dylan leaned forward, kissing George roughly. Dylan was getting close too. His movements were sporadic, in the best way.

“Cum for me,” Dylan whispered against George’s lips, gently tugging his dick. As if on command, George did, hot and sticky all over Dylan’s hand as he arched his back off the couch with a cry. He almost lost it when the pleasure hit, wave after wave flooding his body. It took all of his focus for finishing Dylan off, barely noticing when he came. Dylan collapsed onto George, heaving chests pressed together as they rode out their orgasms.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Dylan calmed down enough to look up at George with a tired smile. “That was great.” George didn’t reply. He was still in shock of what the heck just happened. He just jerked off his… boyfriend. He had a boyfriend now.

Dylan gave George a light kiss then sat up wiping his hands clean before grabbing one of the water bottles from the floor. He twisted the cap off, then brought the bottle up to George’s mouth. George happily took the water, calming down quicker.

George capped the bottle with a groan and went slack against the couch. He glanced down at his spent dick before horror filled his face. “It's all over my boxers! My jeans!” He cried out, sitting up. Both Dylan and George's loads had gotten all over the poor accountant’s boxers and some on his expensive jeans. “My dad’s gonna kill me! The maid will see and she'll tell him due to it being so out of place and…!”

Dylan couldn't help but laugh at the accountant’s dilemma, not bothering to put any clothes back on. “Seriously? You think I'd make you mess your undies and not offer to wash them?” He started pulling off George's jeans and boxers off entirely. “I'll have em washed with the rest of my shit and I'll give you some boxers for tonight.”

George flinched with embarrassment as Dylan undressed him. “I'm not a child, I can do it myself,” He tried to defend but was brushed off as Dylan took his clothes into another room. At least George got to watch his bare ass as he walked off, that was a plus. Dylan came back with a pair of sweatpants and a clean pair of boxers. “I got you my stretchy stuff,” He smiled shyly. “You can keep them if you want.”

George shook his head and pulled the garments on, the boxers were a bit snug but the sweatpants felt nice. _Dad hates when I wear sweats in public._ “Thank you, I appreciate it.” He pulled his shirt back on and watched as Dylan pulled on his own boxers but left his shirt and pants on the floor.

The front door’s lock was suddenly being jiggled with, making George freeze in fear of an intruder. Dylan simply sat on the couch and watched. When the door finally opened, in walked the same man from the alleyway, torn clothes and all. “Finally you guys are fuckin done! I came by earlier and heard ya so I did a couple laps around the parking lot.” Jorel laughed.

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Oh shut it! We hardly took that long. You and V take wayyy longer.” George was all kinds of uncomfortable, _how can he talk about… What we did... So casually?_

Jorel walked by the couch, seeming to be examining George, making the accountant squirm. “Oh shit! Is this George? Damn, he does look like your boss.” Dylan bent over and hugged George, shielding his body from Jorel's judging look. “Yeah, so what?” Dylan said, narrowing his eyes at the scene kid.

George was getting too uncomfortable. “Maybe I should go…” He said, as he slowly sat up, gently pushing Dylan off of him. Dylan hurriedly stood up after him, grabbing his hand and holding tightly. “Don’t, please, Jay’s just being an ass. Come on, stay for a while.”

“I’d love to get to know ya,” Jorel said as if that would solve everything. George shook his head, already heading for the door. “I really need to go, my dad-” Dylan groaned following the accountant to the door. “Are you leaving cause of Jay or cause of your dad?” He asked, hushing his voice a little.

“Bit of both,” George admitted. “He’s already going to be mad at me for disappearing for a few hours. Gosh, what do I even tell him?” Dylan pressed his lips together, obviously trying to not to smile. George narrowed his eyes at him. “What’s so funny?”

“You said ‘gosh’,” Dylan said. “I’m sorry, but it’s real cute.” George rolled his eyes. “You are not helping.” Dylan chuckled, pulling George in for a loose hug. “Tell him some shit like you ran into another friend, I dunno. And give me your number. That’s a thing boyfriends should have.”

George blushed, forgetting that his phone had been left in his jeans pocket. “My phone’s in my pants, the ones you messed up.” Dylan clicked his tongue and sighed. “Shut up you loved it. I’ll go get it.” He went to go get the device, returning with it in his hands and typing in his number. “You should really put a password on it,” He said, handing it back to George with his contact saved. “Shit’s unsafe if you don’t.”

George couldn’t reply, he was too busy staring at the contact name Dylan had given himself: TBD. “Why?” He asked, looking back up. Dylan shrugged as he pulled out his own phone. He typed on it for a few seconds, then showed George. His contact name read _Papa Ragan_. George coughed, flushing even darker. “Why!?” He asked again.

Dylan giggled with a shrug. “Why not?” George sighed, trying to ignore his burning cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.” Dylan nudged his side, tilting his head. “Do you really have to go?” he asked, mood visibly dropping.

George checked the time, and almost dropped his phone. He’d already been out for over four hours when all he meant to go out for was breakfast. “Oh, jeez, yeah. My dad’s gonna have a fit.” Dylan sighed, smile fading into a frown. “Can I get a goodbye kiss at least?”

“As if you have to ask,” George said. He leaned in, meeting Dylan’s soft lips for a light kiss. Dylan tried to deepen it, but then Jorel yelled for them to get a room so they had to break apart. Dylan flipped off his roommate while George blushed even _more_. Would he ever stop blushing? Probably not, but only time would tell.

The last thing George heard before he closed the door behind him was Dylan shouting at Jorel for him to buzz off, except Dylan said something harsher than buzz.

It took George a decent amount of time to walk back to the mansion- maybe 30 minutes. A manageable walk, but he would definitely drive next time. Because there was definitely going to be a next time because George had a boyfriend now. He had a thousand questions flying through his head, ones with no answers because he’s never had a partner of any kind like this before. The one thing he did know was that he had an insanely good time at Dylan’s place.

George’s pleasant mood was ruined as soon as he stepped through the door to the home he shared with his parents. Yes, it sounds pathetic to still live with your parents when you’re about to become the owner of the family business, but the situation was complicated.

“Where were you?” Griffin demanded almost as soon as George had closed the door. “And why are you wearing those pants? I told you before pants like those destroy your professional image.”

George held back a groan, instead turning to face his father and pasting on the nicest smile he could manage. “I was with Danny, Dad. We ran into each other at the coffee shop, he spilled some coffee on me so I went back to his place and got a change of pants.” Growing up with controlling parents taught George to lie at least a little. Enough for his father to not notice, anyways.

“Almost five hours, George. You were ‘with Danny’ for almost five hours?” Griffin’s overbearing tone filled the otherwise silent room. George shrugged. “We watched a couple movies.

Griffin sighed. “I just want the best for you, George,” Griffin said, standing from his chair. “I’m heading out with Sharon, we’ll be back later.”

George held back a sigh of relief. He would be alone this evening, away from his father and his father’s girlfriend. He had nothing against the girlfriend, he just didn’t really care about her too much. He did, at times, miss his mother, who had passed away when he was 19 from cancer. The whole grieving process pushed him into tolerating his father and his need to control his life. From then on, he let his father continue to make every decision in his life, molding him into the son of his dreams. But that was then, and this was now. George wanted to live his own life and be a grown up and make his own decisions. He was going to be the boss of his own company soon enough. He should be able to wear what pants he wanted to out in public. And be with who he wanted in public.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, Aron Kane Burns, a Latino, give this fanfiction the Brown Stamp of approval


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We both appreciate and love comments!

George waited until his father had been gone for at least ten minutes, then called Dylan. 

“Yo, yo, yo, you’re favorite homo speaking,” Dylan answered almost immediately. “Couldn’t get enough of me?”  George rolled his eyes, grinning just a little. “I’m home alone, would you want to come over? I could pick you up.”

The connection sounded muffled, but it sounded like Dylan said: “Oooh, you know I’m comin’ for that ass.” Then, much louder, “That sounds great, Georgie.” George blushed, knowing that Dylan was definitely talking to Jorel about things that were inappropriate. “I’ll see you in ten or so minutes,” George said, quickly hanging up the phone.  _ He’s going to be the death of me. _

George got the keys to the Maserati and headed out right back to where he had been less than an hour ago. It took a lot less time to drive to Dylan’s place than to walk. George would definitely be driving to him more often. When he pulled up to the apartment complex, he was shocked once again at the pure different between his neighborhood, and Dylan’s. He felt extremely out of his place with his shiny car in front of a run-down neighborhood. 

But then Dylan popped out the front door with a happy grin, easing George’s discomfort. Dylan got into the car, leaning over to kiss George’s cheek. “Hey, Beautiful,” He greeted, shutting the door and settling in. George couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. _This’ll take some getting used to._ “Hello, yourself.”

“So, we going to your place?” Dylan asked. “Where we’ll be all alone?” He winked, and his hand began trailing up George’s arm more than a little suggestively. George began driving if only to distract himself from his boyfriend being very attractive right now. “Yes, my home, by ourselves.” 

“What a treat,” Dylan said, sinking lower in his seat. “Damn, you got a nice car, man. It’s comfy.” George shrugged. “It’s alright.” Dylan stared at him, slightly offended. “This car costs more than my life, dude!” George frowned. “That’s not true, why would you say that?”

“Because every piece of clothing you own probably costs more than my rent,” Dylan said, turning his attention to the window. “Hats included.” George scoffed. “I don’t wear hats,” Dylan smirked. “Guess what I’m gonna get you someday?” George chuckled and shook his head. “I haven’t got a clue.” Dylan clicked his tongue. “Damn, I thought you were smart.”

George huffed. “I am!” Dylan didn’t respond because they pulled up to the house - wait, no, it was a mansion. “You live in a fucking mansion, Georgie?” Dylan asked, eyes wide with shock. “You live in a god damn mansion, and you didn’t tell me?” 

“I didn’t really feel like telling you I still live with my dad, so yeah. I didn’t tell you.” George pulled the car into the large garage, ignoring his blushing cheeks. Dylan stepped out of the car, running out of the garage in an attempt to see the whole mansion. “Holy shit!” He couldn’t see the whole house, despite being quite a few feet back. “You’re home is mother-fucking huge!”

George shrugged. “I’ve lived in it all my life, it’s not that big.” Dylan stared at him as if he were actually insane. “Georgie, you’re garage is bigger than my entire apartment.” George shook his head. “I’m sure it’s not.” Dylan placed his hands on his hips. “And I’m sure that it is,” He said. “You gonna show me around?” George held out his arm like a true gentleman. “May I?” 

Dylan chuckled and put his arm around George’s. “You may.” George grinned and led Dylan into his house. “I’d rather not be seen by the maids,” George told him, peering into a hallway before leading Dylan to the stairs. “They’d tell my dad on me for having you here.” 

“Of course you have maids,” Dylan murmured, eyeing the house with a sort of jealous wonder. “In this huge ass house that I’m not allowed to be in.” George sighed, wishing he didn’t feel so guilty for having this family wealth. “We should be fine upstairs, the maids usually don’t go up there when I’m home alone.” 

“Do they not wanna catch ya jerkin’ it?” Dylan asked. “Cause, that’s my job now.” George coughed, almost choking on his own saliva. He glared at Dylan but couldn’t actually find it within himself to be angry. “You’re insufferable.” 

“Actually, Georgie, I’m adorable,” Dylan said. George regained his composure, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. “Yes, but still insufferable. Anyway, this is the floor I live on.”  _ The walls are so clean, not a punched-out hole in sight.  _ Dylan didn’t like that he felt irritated at George’s privilege, but everything from his childhood was telling him how George was a bad person just for being wealthy. 

George opened a door, leading them inside. “This is my bedroom.” There was a dark blush forming on his face.  _ Oh lord, everyone knows what happens when you take your boyfriend to your bedroom. I’m just asking for trouble.  _ George thought as Dylan shut and locked the door. Georges room was quite big, a large king sized bed against the corner and he seemed to have an office included as well. Bookshelves lined the wall near a desk and there was a window that held a stunning view of their backyard. 

“What’d you wanna do, Georgie?” Dylan purred out pushing George onto the neatly made bed. George inhaled shakily. “You said earlier you’d help me practice kissing with tongue, I wanna do that, please.” Dylan smiled widely and moved George to the center of the bed before kissing George roughly, immediately pushing his tongue into George's mouth, forcing a moan out. George shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around Dylan’s neck, as he had done earlier, bringing him closer. 

Without stopping the heated kiss, Dylan moved so he was straddling George, one leg on either side of him. George moved his hands down to Dylan’s sides, lightly digging in his nails. Dylan smirked into the kiss and bit down on George’s lip. This time, George didn’t pull away. He just gasped, scratching a bit harder now. 

“Jesus, Georgie, you’re getting me hard all over again,” Dylan said, pulling away but only because he needed to breathe. He was already panting softly, just barely grinding down against the accountant. George shook his head, glancing at the door in concern. “We can’t do  _ that _ here, it’s too loud.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Dylan lightly kissed George’s lips, then his jaw. “I really wanna touch you right now.” He trailed kisses down George’s neck, lingering just a little bit on one spot. George inhaled through his nose, shutting his eyes as Dylan managed to find a particularly sensitive spot. “Dylan, we can’t.” He felt bad about it, but for crying out loud, the maids were still out there!

Dylan pulled away with a pout. “Can I at least kiss you?” George sighed, moving his hand up to cup Dylan’s cheek. “I’m sorry, I wish we could do  _ that _ , I really do.” Dylan shrugged, grinning a little. “It’s okay, Georgie. We can still have a damn fine time.”  He kissed George again, but this time, it was George who slipped his tongue into Dylan’s mouth, earning a low moan from him.

George sat up a little, gaining confidence. He dug his nails further into Dylan’s sides, gently pushing him over to flip their positions. “Shit,” Dylan panted, grinning up at George. He gripped George’s shoulders, fully lying down on his back. “Where the fuck is this coming from?” 

“I don’t know,” George admitted before leaning in for another kiss. He liked being on top. It was new, it was great. But he also liked being under Dylan. Both were definitely good. Dylan apparently thought the same thing, if his reaction was anything to go by. He let out another moan so loud that George almost stopped to see if a maid heard. Almost.

It was only because of a ridiculous thing called ‘lack of oxygen’ that George broke the kiss. Dylan smirked, panting softly through extremely pink lips. “Is this all we’re gonna do?” He asked, trailing one of his hands down George’s arm. “‘Cause if we do, I won’t be able to hold back on ya.” 

“I was thinking something along the same line,” George said with a smile, lying down on his side next to Dylan. He propped himself up on one elbow so he could still face the janitor. “So what do you wanna do? We kinda have to stay in my room though.” 

“There’s plenty to do in your room,” Dylan said, stretching out along George’s bed. It was so much comfier than his own, it was ridiculous. “We can talk about our deep dark secrets and shit.” George frowned. “I don’t really have any secrets to tell.” Dylan looked at George with a smirk and grabbed his hand, holding it firmly. “Of course you don’t. Why don’t you tell about how ya grew up? What made you the way that you are, Georgie?”

George grimaced. “That makes it sound bad. I had a normal childhood, I guess. Just my parents and I, and the maids but I had limited interactions with them. I went to good schools, I went to college, I had a few friends here and there. My mom passed away almost ten years ago, my dad’s been pretty controlling ever since but I put up with it. Skip forward to today, and I’m going to inherit my father’s business soon. That’s about it for me, what about you?” 

Dylan took a deep breath. “I've got an older sister, and I’ve got two parents. We lived in a tiny ass house, and we never seemed to have enough money. We were never dirt poor, but we were nowhere near this,” He gestured wildly around the both of them, eyeing the room with mild jealousy. “It wasn’t bad though. We were a happy family. My sister watched out for me when our parents couldn’t, and I tried to best to do the same. We had a good time growing up together.”

George hummed in response. He loved listening to Dylan just talk. It was calming, even soothing. “Where’s she now?”  Dylan grinned. “She lives in the next city over, with her boyfriend. She says she’s happy, and she likes her job. She works at the library of all things which I ain’t surprised by. She was always a nerd, ya know? I try to call her at least once a week since I can’t go and see her too much with no car and all. Jay’s piece of shit car can only go so many miles without popping a tire or something, I don’t trust it.” 

“Do you miss her?” George asked, trying not to sound as if he just realized how lonely his entire had been. Dylan seemed to notice. “Yeah, I do. Are you okay, Georgie?” He moved his hand up to the accountant’s cheek. 

George managed a bare smile, leaning into Dylan’s hand a bit. “I’m alright, I promise. I guess I’m just wondering what would’ve happened if I had a sibling. Maybe I wouldn’t so lonely, but who knows?” He looked back to Dylan, a man he hasn’t known for long but has already done so much and  _ feels _ so much for him. “But now I have you, right? I’m not alone anymore?” 

Dylan sat up, just to wrap his arms around George in a weirdly angled hug. “You’re not alone, Georgie,” He murmured, firmly holding onto George.  _ You're not alone.  _ Dylan's voice echoed in George's head. “Hey, lay on your back, I think you need some cuddles,” Dylan said, smiling softly. George gladly complied and soon Dylan had his head resting against George’s chest, a hand on his lower stomach. “I really like you, ya know?” Dylan said, rubbing his cheek against George.

George smiled and put a hand into Dylan’s long, curly hair. “I like you a lot too, I really do.” Dylan hummed in content as George rubbed his head, stroking his hair. “You know, I think you’d look nice with braided hair,” George said, chuckling softly. Dylan snorted. “You want me to wear a dress too?” He mocked. “Oh don't be like that,” George brushed his hand through the curly hair. “You could have pigtails! It could be very pretty on you. Plus, you could always wear that hat you had on earlier with it.”  _ My beanie with braids? Doesn't sound  _ that  _ bad…  _ Dylan sighed, dramatically. “If you insist, though I have no idea how to braid anything.” George chuckled and gave Dylan’s head a peck. “I can show you how it’s pretty easy.”

“After that, I can buy you a dress.” George joked, laughing when Dylan snapped his head up in shock. “The shi- you fuckin’ rascal!” Dylan laughed and playfully hit George’s arm. George looked proud, he liked joking, he wished he could do it more often. Dylan's arms squeezed around George with a small mew. “This is nice, Georgie. I like being in your arms.” George smiled, twirling some of Dylan’s hair around his finger. “I like you in my arms too.”

“Good, cause I don’t ever plan on leaving. Shit’s comfy.” Dylan snuggled further into George’s side, wrapping his leg around George’s thigh. George clicked his tongue. “Clingy?” He loved it. Dylan grinned, tightening his hold on George. “In your dreams, homie.” Dylan suddenly got an idea, he looked up at George with a sweet look before licking George’s cheek. George flinched, almost shoving Dylan off of him as he sat up and quickly wiped the saliva off his cheek. “Why?” He asked, looking at Dylan with shock.

“Because you called me clingy,” Dylan said as it were the obvious answer. He grinned as George continued to wipe his cheek despite it already being dry. “You complaining about my tongue on you? Damn, someone doesn’t want head.” Dylan licked George’s cheek again. George whined, from both being licked again and also because Dylan was suggesting something inappropriate and he didn’t know exactly what it was. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, then quickly smeared the spit back onto Dylan’s cheek. “Take it back, I don’t want it.”

“Oh, you’ll want it in a moment,” Dylan promised before tackling George onto the bed. Dylan gave George an evil grin before leaning down and licking George’s lips, then kissing him deeply.  _ You can’t say no to me. _ George gasped into the kiss, truly not expecting what just happened. Not that he was opposed to it. He kissed back, reaching his hands up and lightly gripping Dylan’s hair. Dylan moaned softly, putting his hand on George’s chest, rubbing his thumb against his nipple. George inhaled sharply, blushing furiously. He broke the kiss, staring at Dylan with a mixture of shock and lust.

“No one’s ever done that to ya, huh?” Dylan smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you all sorts of shit you’ve never seen.” George felt worried, but his pants felt tight at the statement. Dylan started kissing George's jaw again, down to his neck, he was trying to find that sensitive spot again. George groaned softly and tightened his grip on Dylan's hair. “Mm Dylan, I don't want the maids to hear!” He whined softly as he tilted his head back. Dylan chuckled and licked at the spot, nipping it softly. Not hard enough to leave a mark. 

George gasped softly and moaned into his hand that was now cupped over his mouth. “I'm giving you a taste of what I can give you.” Dylan chuckled, pulling back and tapping George's nose. George took a breath, trying to calm down. “You're really something, Alvarez.” Dylan snorted. “Oh god, never call me that. Your damn dad doesn't seem to understand that my name tag says ‘Dylan’. It's weird being called by your last name,” He smirked softly. “Isn’t that right, Papa Ragan.” Dylan laughed hard when George's face contorted into a grimace. “You're ridiculous and utterly horrid.” 

Dylan giggled, moving off of George to cuddle against his side. “You love it.” He insisted. Dylan looked up, a more serious look on his face. “Can I stay the night? I don't like that you're alone in this huge room just to avoid your dad.” George pursed his lip. “But what if…” He couldn't think of any logical reasons to why not, the door was locked, Griffin usually leaves for work earlier than George does, he'd just have to drive Dylan home before his shift starts! George nodded, a smile growing. “Actually, I think it'll be fine. But just sleeping, capeesh?” 

Dylan giggled softly and nodded. “Alright, but it's not my fault if you get tempted.” He got out of the large bed before pulling his shirt over his head and onto the floor along with his sweatpants. Dylan crawled back onto the sheets with a smirk. “Hard yet?” He teased. George couldn't stop looking at his body, Dylan's stomach was a bit chubby and he could see hair creeping up from under his boxers. 

Dylan brought him back to reality by waving his hand in front of George’s face. “Earth to Georgie, earth to Georgie. Am I just that damn hot, you can’t look away?” George was torn between agreeing and giving a sarcastic reply. He settled on shaking his head with a grin, and carefully took off his own shirt and tossed it to the floor. He decided to remain in his (Dylan’s) sweatpants since he felt too lazy to take them off. They’d probably end up coming off somehow during the night, anyhow.

“Is this the part where we’re going to cuddle?” Dylan asked, shuffling up to George’s mountain of pillows. “Cause I’d really like to do that right now.” George blushed a little, more than a little ashamed to admit he didn’t know how to properly cuddle. He didn’t know if there was a specific way to do it to maximize comfort, or there was a generally preferred position, or if it was just random and you had to figure everything out or if it was common knowledge that just everyone knew how to cuddle-

“Georgie, stop overthinking and hold me.” Dylan’s voice once again broke his train of thought. He grabbed George’s arms and wrapped them around his waist. “We’re gonna lie on our sides, and you’re gonna be the big spoon.” George followed Dylan’s lead and laid on his side behind Dylan. 

“Now, take this arm,” Dylan grabbed George’s arm, “And put it right here.” And he draped it across his waist. “And we lay here, and contemplate the meaning of everything.” George raised an eyebrow. “Do you do that often?” Dylan hummed, shrugging the shoulder he wasn’t lying on. “What else do you do when you’re stoned outta your mind? Jenga?” George scoffed. “I think I have better things to do rather than ‘getting high’, don't you think?”

George could  _ feel  _ Dylan frowning. “Nothin’s better than getting high, homie. Not with the good kush.” “Cushion?” George repeated, “I thought you were doing drugs?” Dylan’s frown went away and he cracked up, letting out some giggles. George blushed, realizing how dumb he sounded. “Kush is drugs, right?” Dylan was almost in tears from trying not to laugh too much, but he was losing the fight. “Y-yeah, Georgie,” He said between giggles. “Kush is drugs.”  Dylan stretched, pointing his chin up, giving George a nice view of his neck.

George took the opportunity to place a light kiss on Dylan’s neck, quickly pulling away with a cheeky grin. Dylan’s eyes widened just a bit, he wasn’t expecting that very sensitive spot to be kissed. He licked his lip. “Could you… maybe please do that again?” George nodded with a small grin. “Yeah, I can.” George placed another kiss to Dylan’s neck, and then another, trailing kisses as far as he could reach. Dylan took a deep breath and licked his lips again. “You ever give a hickey?” He asked, looking at George with half-lidded eyes. George shook his head, blushing just a bit more. 

“You’re just gonna suck on my neck, Georgie,” Dylan said, running his hand up and down George’s arm. “Can I lick it too? Like you did?” Dylan nodded. “You can do anything you want.” George took that as a go-ahead and pressed his lips to Dylan’s neck again. He tried his best to do what Dylan told him to do, and from the way Dylan moaned rather loudly, he guessed he was doing at least an okay job.

Dylan panted softly. “Bite me, please Georgie.” He shut his eyes. George felt on top of the world, he was so in control over Dylan. He was dominate. George bit, rather harshly, overcome with power. Dylan gasped, tensing up, letting out a moan of pain. “Fuck, George.” He whined

George pulled back, shocked and concerned about the forming bite mark on his boyfriend’s neck. He licked the wound thoroughly, pressing his tongue down making Dylan moan out. “Did I bite too hard?”  _ Did I hurt you? _

Dylan was panting, eyes half shut. “That was hot.” He admitted. “I like it when you take control, Georgie.” He smiled tiredly, rolling over to give George a kiss. “Good night.” He snuggled into George's chest and shut his eyes. 

George didn't understand fully what he had done or even why Dylan liked it but he liked Dylan against him, peacefully, maybe he should just go with it. “Good night, Dylan.” He kissed Dylan's head before shutting his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, Aron Kane Burns, a Latino, give this fanfiction the Brown Stamp of approval


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We both appreciate and love comments!

Dylan grabbed the mop and his cart, he had already been making his rounds for a few hours now. “Another day, more shit to clean,” He said to no one in particular. He didn’t hate his job, or he wouldn’t have taken it but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy every second of cleaning up after entitled accountants. There was only one in the building he was willing to do anything for, and that man’s office was the last on his list of chores to complete. But first, he had an expensive glass display to clean that was in the third-floor hall.

So to the elevators, Dylan went, pushing his stupid cart along the way. There was no music in the elevator, which he found disappointing but what can you do? Nothing, that’s what. He finally reached the third floor and made his way to the fancy glass display case that Griffin was more proud of than he was of his own son.

Dylan started off by taking out the figurines first, setting an elegant glass peacock onto the shelf of his janitor cart. The thing was huge, _Must be compensating for somethin’._ He snickered to himself as he carefully wiped the green and blue bird. He went back to the display and grabbed a smaller figurine, an angel the size of his hand with golden wings and an assload of intricate details. _Damn._ Dylan held it extra carefully in his hands as he wiped it clean with his rag. _This little motherfucker must be worth a fortune and a half._

“Mr. Alvarez! Put that Down!” Came a sudden bark from a very familiar man. Dylan nearly dropped the angel when he flinched and looked up, Griffin’s egg-head was practically steaming. “Huh? I was just-” It was like suddenly waking up from a nap and having your mom immediately yell at you. “Trying to _steal_ one of this company’s finest figurines!” Griffin shouted, stomping down the hallway towards the confused Latino. The man was huge in height, a bit taller than himself and Dylan was already taller than George! ”Wait you think I was-”

“Trying to be a rotten thief!” Griffin finished his sentence, snatching the angel from him. The door to room 314 slowly crept open, dark blonde hair peeking out, soon followed by curious blue eyes. “I was just trying to clean the little bitch!” Dylan said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Like my fuckin’ job description says to!”

Griffin somehow managed to look even angrier, something Dylan thought was impossible at this point. “You were about to put it on your cart and wheel it away and sell it!” Griffin held the angel close to his chest, right next to the golden crucifix he wore over his perfect suit. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” Dylan gaped at the stupid man. “I was cleaning it… like I’m being paid to do?” At this point, George decided it was time to intervene. He left his office and quickly walked over to them, hands held up. “Woah, guys, let’s calm it down alright?” He stood between the two of them, trying to think of ways to diffuse the situation.

“I swear to God I wasn’t stealing it,” Dylan said, at the same time as Griffin said, “He’s a dirty rat, George!” **_Dylan loses 10hp in offense and an extra 15hp from not getting defended by his boyfriend._ ** “Dad, I’m sure Dylan wasn’t stealing the figurine, he knows it would be his job on the line if he did,” George said, placing a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Let’s just forget about this, okay? Just put the angel back, close up the case, and we can all go on with our day’s.”

Dylan huffed in annoyance. “I still gotta clean it though, some of us have to earn our money.” George felt a tug at his heart at Dylan's harsh tone. “You're on thin ice, Alvarez,” Griffin said sternly. “You will carry on with your schedule and clean this case when I tell you to. Do I make myself clear.” Dylan glared, stoner eyes pinned onto Griffin’s ice cold ones. “Yes. Sir.”

He grabbed his cart and moved it towards room 314. “May I come in?” Dylan's tone was fake polite as he looked at George. George gulped. “Yes, you may.” He let Dylan go in first before casting a glance at his dad. “Please dad, have more patience with him.” Griffin scoffed. “When Hell freezes over. You know I don't even like his kind.” Griffin left, marching to the elevator.

George let out a sigh of relief but then remembered he had an upset boyfriend to comfort.

When George stepped into his office he saw Dylan leaning against his desk, arms crossed. A scowl was in place of his usual grin of amusement, his brown eyes seemed darker than usual and his hair draped over bits of his face making a shadow. Overall, even with his uniform on, Dylan looked intimidating. Attractive, but intimidating.

“I’m really sorry about him,” George said as soon as he shut the door. “Like, really, really, _really_ sorry about that, he’s usually a bit more internal with his hatred, I never thought he’d actually accuse you-”

“Shut it, George. It’s in the past, okay? Let’s just fucking move on, okay?” Dylan shoved himself off the desk with a huff. He went over to his cart and got out a rag and cleaner, and went about his job. George felt cold creep into the tips of his fingers as his chest hurt. “I’m… I’m sorry.” Dylan’s head snapped up, _Shit, did I actually make him upset?!_ He sighed, wondering if he should apologize too… but he had nothing to apologize for. He was the one who had been accused, and he was not defended by his boyfriend. He was the one who lost **15hp** , he had nothing to be sorry for.

Dylan kept quiet, focused on cleaning the windows. George deflated with a sigh and sat down at his desk. If he was gonna be ignored, then so be it. Two could play at that game. He picked up his favorite pen and stared at his work. And stared. And stared some more. Not actually working, just focusing on the janitor who was now humming a tune he didn’t recognize. Dylan didn’t usually hum but he needed something to distract himself from his stupid boyfriend sitting in his stupid chair with his stupid work. Dylan suddenly stopped humming and let out a groan of irritation. “Fuck this,” He muttered, before leaving. He left the cart in George’s office and made sure to slam the door to really point out how upset he was.

Dylan made his way behind the building, taking out his phone and calling Jay. “It’s 420 time,” he said as soon as Jay picked. “I need a pick-me-up like you have no fucking idea.” Jay chuckled. “I got you, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

True to his word, Jay got there five minutes later. He pulled up in his shitty car that sounded like it was dying, parked, and walked over to Dylan while lighting a blunt. He passed it to the janitor before he even took a hit for himself, and let Dylan smoke as much as he needed before he was willing to talk. When Dylan finally passed it back Jay asked, “Long day?”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “I got accused of stealing because I’m brown. Griffin the big motherfucker can’t handle me doing my job apparently.” Jay cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. “I’m surprised it took this long for that to happen but damn. What about your little boyfriend, what’d he do about it?” Dylan scoffed and took back the blunt. “Not a damn thing. Just told us to calm down like we’re kids as if _I_ did something wrong.”

“Someone sounds like they’re not getting enough attention,” Jorel said, clicking his tongue and snatching the blunt back. Dylan pouted, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “Sounds like someone needs to shut their damn mouth and mind their own business.” Jay chuckled, amused at how childish his friend was being. “You called me here, dick. I could just take my weed and fuck off, ya know.”

“You wouldn’t,” Dylan said, widening his eyes. “I would,” Jay replied, handing the blunt over. “You gonna talk to what’s-his-dick about it, or you just gonna bitch about it to me?” Dylan scowled. “First off, you know his name. Secondly, fuck you. And third, I think I need this whole blunt done before I can talk to him again.” Jorel shrugged. “Go ahead, I got edibles at home. See ya, gay boy.” Jorel got into his shitty car and drove off before Dylan could shout something obscene back.

\----

George sat at his desk, craning his neck to keep looking out the window, paperwork abandoned. _Why's he taking so long? Am I that bad?_ The janitor had been gone for more than 15 minutes now and the accountant feared he left for good.

There were suddenly staggered footsteps coming from outside the door before the knob turned and revealed a _very_ blazed Dylan. George nearly gagged from the awful scent that radiated from the stoner. “Dylan, what the heck? You smell terrible, what'd you do?!” He stepped up from his chair to the front of the desk.

Dylan simply smirked, bloodshot eyes pinned on him. “I calmed down, isn’t that what you wanted?” He stepped closer to George, looking him up and down with what was almost a predatory gaze. “I wanna move on with our day, like you.” He moved even closer, now standing right in front of George. Dylan leaned forward, just enough for whatever foul odor hung onto his clothes to invade George’s space. The accountant leaned back, sitting on his desk to avoid the stench. Dylan placed his hands on either side of George, boxing him in his arms.

George cringed, face hanging back. “Dylan, what are you doing? Please step back.” Dylan almost looked offended. “That's not what you said last night. Come on babe, I thought you loved being against me, under me, touching me.” George blushed furiously because _yes_ , he did like those things, but not when Dylan smelled like… whatever he smelled like. Not when Dylan was anything but sober.

Dylan leaned down, nibbling softly on George's neck. “Ya know, you gave me one Hell of a hickey last night.” There was a very dark bruise on Dylan's neck along with faint teeth marks. “Why don't I return the favor?” It was almost a threat. George didn’t even have time to reply before Dylan latched himself onto his neck, focusing exclusively on the most sensitive spot that could exist.

“Dylan,” George gasped and tried to protest, he really did. But his boyfriend’s lips felt too good, even though the gross odor of whatever substance he abused. George suddenly felt teeth against him and decided it was enough. “S… Stop, he's going to see.” He pushed Dylan off weakly, barely moving him an inch.

Dylan let himself be pushed with a scowl. “Really, George? You still care about what that jackass thinks?” George frowned too. The mood was officially ruined. “I kinda have to, Dylan. He’s still my father, and also your boss.” Dylan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “That shit’s just excuses. You’re just gonna acknowledge how the fuck he treated me and sweep it under the rug and expect everything to be okay? Not bothering to ask yourself how the Hell I feel about it?”

“What was I supposed to do, Dylan?” George knew he was beginning to sound desperate, but he just wanted for this argument to be over and for him and Dylan to go back to being perfect together. This fight was ugly, and not supposed to be how his first relationship turned out. “Fucking defend me, George!” Dylan raised his voice, almost shouting at this point. “Act like you give a damn about me for a change!”

George looked at the door with fear. “Keep your voice down!” He hushed, “I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry that my father treats you unfairly and I didn't say or do anything to help you. I just can't say anything to defy him! I'm all he has left of my mom and I can't upset him,” George looked away, teary-eyed, “‘M sorry…” He heard Dylan sigh but didn’t look up. He kept waiting for Dylan to walk out of the room and never come back.

He didn’t look up until he felt a pair of warm arms wrap around him, securing him tightly in a hug. He melted into the embrace, ignoring that odor that was still hanging around the janitor. “I’m sorry I was a being an ass,” Dylan murmured, tightening his hold on George. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

George sighed as he calmed down, starting to get used to the gross scent. “What did you do to make yourself smell this way?” He asked, curiously. Dylan chuckled softly against George's shoulder. “I smoked a fat blunt.” George couldn't help the pout that formed. “Smoking is bad, Dylan.”

“I could be doing coke instead, Georgie,” Dylan said, stepping in front of George and resting his arms over his shoulders. George tilted his head with a frown at that. “Or you could be doing literally anything else,” Dylan smirked. “Like kissing you? Can I do that?” George decided to ignore his fears for one second and nodded lightly. “Yeah, you can.”

Dylan pressed their lips together in a light kiss, moving even closer to George. George sighed into the kiss, more than grateful that the awful situation had been resolved. He forced every other thought away, focusing only on his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s amazing lips. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, and slipped his tongue in. Dylan gave him a breathy moan, and George moved one hand up to lightly grip his hair. “Damn, Georgie, you’re good,” Dylan said, smirking softly. He was already getting excited, the weed making it easier.

“Not here, Dylan,” George said, not trying to make it any easier. He gave Dylan’s hair a light tug and then separated from his embrace. Dylan pouted like a small child. “Not here, not there, not anywhere.” George shook his head. “Calm down, Dr. Seuss. There are other places we can do that kind of thing.” Dylan tilted his head with a smirk. “Like my place? Wanna go there?” George chuckled in amusement, “Maybe when you stop smelling like an addict, sure.”

Dylan huffed. “Come on, Georgie, that’s just unfair. If I take a shower, will that help?” George blushed faintly, thinking about Dylan in the shower, _Maybe I could join him…._ “Yeah, that would help.” Dylan’s smirk grew. “Maybe you could help clean me up?” That was definitely an Adult reference. George was blushing a lot harder now. “Maybe.”

“We going now, Georgie?” Dylan asked, grabbing for George’s hand. George scowled, glancing at his watch. “We still have four hours until work is over.” Dylan blinked. “And billions of years until the universe is gone. Time is meaningless, let’s go. When was the last time you even took a day for yourself?” George honestly couldn’t answer that question. He didn’t remember ever taking a personal day in the last five years. “Point taken, let’s go. You leave first, I’ll follow you out in five or ten minutes.” He’d think of something to tell his dad. He wasn’t staying here.

In less than half an hour, George and Dylan made it to Dylan’s apartment. George drove after he made up some excuse that he can’t even remember anymore. It doesn’t matter. What matters is him and Dylan. And getting Dylan a shower so he doesn’t smell awful anymore. “Are you gonna help me shower, Georgie?” Dylan asked as soon as he finally opened the door. The lock was jammed again.

George blushed lightly but shook his head. “Not right now. Just get that stench off you for now.” Dylan gasped, bringing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “That ‘stench’? I’m hurt!”  George grinned and sat down on the couch. “Go, garbage man. Clean yourself.” Dylan huffed but did as he was told and took a shower.

While George waited, he checked his phone. His dad already sent him a text about how much of a pain it was to cover for him. George rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone. This was Dylan time and Dylan time is good time. Dylan emerged from the shower a few minutes later with only a towel wrapped around his waist. George flushed bright pink and couldn’t look away from Dylan’s perfect body.

Dylan noticed. “My eyes are up here, Georgie.” He smirked as if he got a really good idea and gripped where he had tucked the towel in to secure it, George’s eyes widened as Dylan let the towel drop to the floor. Dylan’s dick was soft but just seeing it made George’s mind run. The janitor strutted his way to George before setting himself on George’s **tense** lap. “Aren’t you... Going to put on some clothes?” He asked, curiously. Dylan chuckled, “Don’t you prefer me without them? I like you like that.” George swallowed, still trying to process how quickly this had happened. “I definitely like you without pants,” He murmured, resting his hands on Dylan’s thighs.

Dylan leaned for a kiss, George eagerly complied, pulling Dylan's thighs closer as he tried to deepen the kiss. His nails dug lightly into Dylan's thighs, making Dylan moan. George could see Dylan's cock twitching as he scratched harder, feeling proud that he could have such an effect on him.

“Can we finally get it on?” Dylan asked, grinding his hips down on George’s lap. “As long as we don’t mess up my pants again,” George said, mindful of his own erection that was starting to become uncomfortable within the confines of his work pants. Dylan chuckled happily, kissing George’s neck, hands sliding down George's chest. The accountant let out a breathy moan as he felt Dylan’s thumbs rub against his nipples after Dylan put hands up his shirt, the feel of Dylan’s skin against his extremely sensitive areas was enough for George to want to tear off his expensive jeans and get relief.

“Have I ever told you that you’re fuckin’ hot, Georgie?” Dylan asked as he pressed kisses down George’s neck, lingering on the faint hickey that was already there. “Cause you’re fuckin’ hot.” George blushed furiously, moaning again as Dylan ground down on his lap. George’s eyes trailed down Dylan’s pelvis, he licked his lips as he rubbed his hand down Dylan’s hip before rubbing his hand against the dark brown hair above Dylan’s cock. The janitor pushed his pelvis up, wanting more contact, letting out a small mew.

“You ever been sucked off?” Dylan asked huskily, shifting slightly off George’s lap. George’s eyes widened and he shook his head. Dylan smirked and started working on the zipper of the accountant’s pants. “Well then, I’m gonna make you feel real good, okay?” Dylan slid off George's lap and settled on his knees.

George gulped as Dylan popped the button of his jeans and pulled down his pants along with his boxers. Dylan looked at George's cock with lust before taking hold of the base. “I think it's bigger this time.” He teased, giving the length a rub. George shut his eyes, holding back a whine, “Shut it,” He mumbled. Dylan chuckled and rubbed the head of George's dick with his thumb, smearing around the accountant’s precum. George gasped, his thighs twitching. “G-gosh…”

Dylan smiled, even while being touched, George still manages to be super cute. “Get ready,” Dylan warned before holding George's dick in place and licking along the underside. George’s spine tensed up, hands clutching the old couch beneath him, his breathing sped up. Dylan reached down to touch himself as he took the head slowly into his mouth, moaning onto it. He sucked softly, bobbing his head a little to scrape his tongue against the sensitive slit.

George moaned out, quite loudly, hands moving to hold Dylan's hair. “Dylan! Oh- ah,” He couldn't speak correctly, not with Dylan sliding nearly half of his dick down his throat. Dylan's mouth was hot, tongue pushing against the foreskin as the cock leaked and twitched heavily. Dylan's head bobbed at a steady pace, though, George wanted to push Dylan's head down further, show some dominance like when he gave Dylan that hickey. He refrained from doing it, George imagined it would probably hurt.

“Ahhh! Dylan wait, God, oh god I'm gonna cum,” George groaned out, panicking slightly that Dylan wasn't pulling off. “Dylan, stop. I-I'm gonna get cum in your mouth!” He whined as he pulled on Dylan's hair. Dylan pulled off with a large grin. “Lemme tell you a not-so-secret, Georgie; I like cum.” George’s eyes widened, that was possibly the lewdest thing he had ever heard before, and that's what pushed him over the edge. Dylan flinched a bit as Geroge orgasmed, getting his cum on Dylan’s face.

George clutched Dylan’s hair as he leaned forward, groaning loudly in pleasure as he came down from his high. Just as Dylan was about to finish himself off, the door started creaking. Jay was home, and Dylan had a hard on that needed immediate attention. “Fucking hell,” Dylan muttered, shoving himself into a standing position and running to the bathroom.

George could barely register what was happening, but he could hear the door. He grabbed his boxers and pants, roughly pulling them on just as the door was shoved open. George turned around and froze when he saw Jay with two other guys he didn’t recognize. One was super skinny with dark hair, and the other had brown hair and a baby face.

Jay raised an eyebrow at George, eyeing him up and down with a knowing smile. “Where’s Dylan?” He asked, glancing towards the hall with the bedrooms. George swallowed roughly, still not fully down from his own high. “Bathroom,” He answered, shifting on his feet. He hoped Dylan would be back soon. The guy with the baby face was smiling as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Holy shit, is this Dilly’s squeeze? What the fuck, he’s hot! Why can’t I get one like him?”

The skinny one rolled his eyes and entered the apartment as if he owned it. He went for the fridge and got out several beers. “Maybe if you could keep a boyfriend for more than two weeks at a time, you'd have a chance.” The other guy scoffed. “Fuck you, Aron. I’m a damn treasure, if they don’t see that then they’re stupid.” Jay chuckled at that, sitting on the far end of the couch. “Keep saying that when you date the entire population and no one wants you.”

George looked at the carpet, wondering if it was worth it to jump out the window. He really didn’t want to be around whoever these people were without Dylan. He should probably just leave. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. George started moving towards the door, but couldn’t get far before the skinny one spoke up. “Where ya goin’, George? Dylan’s still here, ain’t he?” George froze at the thin man’s nasally voice. “Well yeah but I, um, Dylan and I sort of expected to be… alone.” His face was burning hot, his back to the three men.

“Aw, don't leave, Georgie,” The baby-faced man cooed, taking hold of the accountant's arm. George flinched, taking his arm back. ”I would rather not be called that.” He said, calmly. The brown-haired man frowned. “Dylan calls you that all the time, what, only he can call you that?”

George was saved from answering when his boyfriend came out of the bathroom, in his work clothes since he hadn't changed. “You fuckers better not be messing with my guy.” Dylan threatened. George frowned and couldn't stop himself from speaking. “You just showered, why would you put your smelly clothes back on?” The three men immediately started snickering at the janitor. “Damn, Dyl, I thought he was your boyfriend, not your dad.” The thin one teased.

Jorel laughed, “Dude! He has his contact name as _Papa Ragan_! Maybe Dylan really is like that!” Despite his darker skin color, Dylan’s blush could be easily seen by all. “Shut the fuck up! You know that shit’s weird man… Plus the name is just a reference to a joke.” He tried to defend. George cleared his throat, using his hand to mostly cover his own blush. The chubby man snickered, making Dylan groan, he grabbed George’s wrist and started dragging him towards what seemed to be his bedroom. “Fuck off! I don’t trust you fuckers alone with George.” He glared at them before shutting the door.

George looked around the room, quite amused at the clothes scattered everywhere. “Oh god, they weren't being too stupid with you, were they?” Dylan asked with his blush still present. “Uh,” George briefly debated on telling Dylan about the baby-faced man touching his arm and calling him Dylan’s “squeeze” then decided not to. “Who are they?” he asked instead. Dylan sighed, looking at the door, imagining what the three stooges were doing. “The skinny one is Aron, he's a salty bitch. Jordon is the other guy, he's a thirsty fuck that can't hold a relationship. And unfortunately, they're my friends.”

George nodded, taking in the new information. “Ok, will you finally change your clothes? I don't want you smelling like drugs.”  Dylan grimaced. “Don't baby me, it's… embarrassing.” George grinned, walking to the smelly boy, tugging at Dylan's clothes. “I think you like it.” Dylan chuckled and started changing clothes. “We don't have to stay here if you don't want. I get it if you don't wanna be around my friends, they're pricks anyways.”

“If we're gonna be together, I should probably get to know you're friends,” George said, leaning against the wall as Dylan looked for a clean shirt. “I'd like to stay and talk to them a little.” Dylan sighed, fully dressed now. “I'm gonna apologize now for any shit they pull later.” He opened the bedroom door. “Be nice, motherfuckers!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, Aron Kane Burns, a Latino, give this fanfiction the Brown Stamp of approval


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We both appreciate and love comments!

“Did you two fuck in there?” Jordon asked as soon as George and Dylan left the room. “You guys were in there for so long we almost left.” Dylan rolled his eyes and took George’s hand. “Stop imagining us fucking and get laid on your own,” He snapped. Aron let out a nasally laugh as Jordon pouted. Jorel snickered at the boys before turning to his roommate. “Aren’t you gonna introduce your boyfriend to them?”

Dylan’s hand tightened around George’s. “Why should I? I’m sure you’ve been gossiping all about us since yesterday.” Jordon grinned. “We’ve certainly been gossiping about _something_ , aye, big boy.” He winked at George. Dylan groaned, stepping to the side so he was almost standing in front of George. “Fuck off, man, he’s mine.”

George felt awkward, more so than when Jorel had walked in after Dylan touched him for the first time. He tugged on Dylan’s hand, trying to somehow tell him that he should calm down a little. When that didn’t work, he faced Jordon and Aron with a businessman smile. “I’m George.” Aron accepted it with a nod. “‘M Aron, call me Big Deuce.” George looked at Jorel, who was smirking. “I’m sorry, what now?” Jorel shook his head. “Don’t ever call him that.” Dylan chuckled, “Not even his ‘bitches’ call him that.”

Jordon stepped forward and reached his hand out. “I’m Jordon, but you can call me Big Daddy.” George physically flinched back, almost pulling his hand away from Dylan’s. “What?!” Dylan used his free hand to mock-smack Jordon. “Last warning, slut,” He growled out. George couldn’t tell if Dylan was truly upset or just joking around but either way, it was starting to become annoying. Attractive, but annoying. “Only my dom can call me that and you know it,” Jordon joked, easing the mood.

“As if anyone is willing to be on top of you,” Aron said, reaching across Jordon to grab a beer. “Or under you,” Jorel added with a smirk. He grabbed a beer, and then he and Aron plopped down on the sofa. Jordon grinned like he had a brilliant idea, and laid across their laps, earning groans of discomfort. “Jesus Christ you’re fuckin’ fat!” Aron tried to push Jordon off his lap, to no avail. “He’s not fat, you’re just fuckin skinny,” Dylan said, watching everything go down with a small grin.

“Aron, push on three,” Jorel said. “One, two, three!” Together, Aron and Jorel pushed Jordon off their laps and onto the floor where he landed with a screech before a thud. “Fuck!” Jordon shouted. He stayed on the floor, not bothering to sit up. “You guys are fuckin’ dicks.” Jorel rolled his eyes. “You’re the dumbass who thought that was a good idea.”

Dylan looked at George with a semi-apologetic smile. “Wanna sit down?” George glanced at the couch where Aron and Jorel were sharing a beer. “Not like that,” Dylan said. “On the floor, if that’s alright with you and your rich ass.” Jordon smirked at that, looking to Jorel as he said, “He’s definitely got a rich ass.”

“Jordy, I swear to God,” Dylan said, walking to the other side of the living room and sitting down on the floor against a wall, George following like a puppy. Dylan rested his head against George’s shoulder, making himself comfortable. “How long have you both even known each other?” Aron’s voice suddenly cut through, he was passing a few beers to the couple.

George and Dylan looked at each other for a second. George was embarrassed by the answer while Dylan could really remember it. George looked back at Aron with a light blush. “About a week or so.” Aron snorted, “Damn, Jordon you might be right about this rich kid just being Dyl’s toy.” Suddenly, George found that he didn’t like the skinny boy. “I’m not a… toy.” He glanced to Dylan for support, only to find Dylan looking more than a little upset. George felt Dylan tighten his grip on his hand.

“He’s not a fucking toy, he’s my boyfriend,” Dylan said, spacing out every word. “And if you guys aren’t gonna treat him like a normal fucking person, we’re gonna leave.” Jorel sensed that his roommate was serious, and held up his hands in between them all. “Alright, everyone, we’re gonna calm our asses down, okay? This is supposed to be a good time, let’s not fight again.” Jorel turned to Aron like a mother scolding her child. “Remember that one time Dylan broke your nose?” Aron nodded while looking at the floor. Jorel turned to Dylan, who was also not looking at him. “And remember how Aron almost broke your wrist?” Dylan nodded. Jorel sighed and slumped into his seat. “So we’re not gonna fight today.”

“You got any weed?” Jordon asked, pushing himself onto his elbows. Jorel rolled his eyes. “I always have weed, dipshit. Blunts or edibles?” Jordon considered for a moment, then said, “Edibles.” Jorel stood and went into his room to grab the marriage iguana. Dylan looked at George with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want some?” he asked, holding George’s hand a little looser. “You don't have to, but if you want some weed, now’s the time.” George had soft cringe on his face, speaking with a wince. “Ehh, no thank you, Dylan.” He said as politely as he could.

“Damn, he doesn’t even do weed?” Aron asked, narrowing his eyes at George. “Do you drink?” George shook his head, feeling like he was being interrogated and being shamed for not participating in harmful substances. Aron looked at Dylan with an exasperated expression. “He doesn’t smoke, he doesn’t drink, where did you even find this guy?”

“On the back of a cereal box,” Dylan replied with a smile. “He was the special prize.” George blushed even more while Aron and Jordon pretended to throw up. Jorel returned with a plastic bag filled with brownies and ignored everyone as he sat back down and opened it up. Dylan glanced to George, then at the bag, then back at George. “Mind if I…” He trailed off, nodding his head at the bag in Jorel’s lap. George realized what he was asking and quickly shook his head. “No, no, go ahead, it’s your place you’re in charge.”

Dylan still felt a little guilty for leaving his boyfriend as the only sober one here but he also wasn’t going to pass up a brownie. He took one from Jorel and carefully broke it in half. Before he could regret his action of breaking such a beautiful brownie apart, he quickly handed the other half to Jordon and ate the half he kept. He also pushed away all but one of the beers that Aron had given them. Jordon didn’t seem to mind, taking the other half of the brownie and the extra beers with a weird smile. He was definitely getting fucked up today.

Dylan popped open the beer, took a sip, then offered it to George. “Wanna try it? It’s shitty beer, but I mean, you’ve probably never had it, yeah?” Jorel tore his attention from the brownie in his hand to the couple in front of him. “You’ve never even had a beer? What the actual fuck, have you been living under a rock your entire life?” George flushed in embarrassment. “I’ve had alcohol before! My father hosts business parties every other month and for the last FIVE years, I’ve been allowed one serving of whiskey at each party.”

“That was the whitest thing I’ve ever heard,” Dylan muttered. George huffed at him and only then did Dylan realize he spoke aloud. “I mean, I like you an’ all, a lot, but that was so fuckin’ white.” Jordon snickered at the couple, “You’re not too white for me, Georgie.” Dylan’s smile fell, replaced with a scowl. “Jordon, I swear to God, back off!”

George grabbed Dylan’s other hand, firmly holding them both. “Dylan, it’s okay,” He whispered, planting a light kiss on his forehead. He ignored Jorel and Aron fake-gagging in the background, Jordon looked confused but kept his mouth shut. “Back to the original problem,” Aron said loudly before kneeling in front of George, beer at hand. “I think, you should have some.” Aron popped the bottle open and nearly shoved it into George's face. “At least one drink,” Jorel said with a smirk, “You wanna hang out with us, don’t you?” 

George furrowed his brows together, confused as to why exactly they all wanted him to drink cheap beer. Dylan took the beer from his hand, giving his friends pointed looks. “Guys lay off.” George huffed, taking the drink back from him. “It’s fine, it’s just beer, plus I’m way older than all of you,” he said to Dylan’s confused expression. He stared into the bottle for a second, then took a sip. George’s face contorted into a cringe as he forced himself to drink the foul beverage when his mouth was empty, he let out a few coughs. Jordon pointed and laughed at the accountant’s misery. Dylan glared at Jordon except he was trying not to smile himself. Aron and Jorel just looked at each other like they knew if that was going to happen.

“Yeah, I don’t like beer,” George said, handing the bottle back to Dylan, who shrugged and then drank half the bottle in one go. “More for us, I guess,” He said with a grin. Jorel suddenly perked up. “Yo, Dyl, I know you were saving the Jack but I think your boyfriend would prefer it.” He wiggled his perfect eyebrows. Dylan rolled his eyes at his roommate but still stood up and offered his hand to George. “Come on, Georgie, we’re going to the kitchen.”

George took his hand, and the two of them left the rest of the doofuses in the living room. He watched as Dylan took a glass out of a cupboard, and a mostly full bottle of Jack out of the freezer. “How much you want, Georgie?” Dylan asked, twisting the cap off. The moment George smelled the whiskey, he automatically went into Dad’s Having A Fancy Party mode. “Whatever will be appropriate, father.” Dylan coughed, almost dropping the bottle and looking at George with wide eyes before forming a smirk. “Save the kinky shit for the bedroom, Georgie, we have guests.” George flushed darkly, never needing a drink more in his life. “Half a glass, please and thank you.” Dylan poured the whiskey, handed the glass to George, then took a drink straight from the bottle before putting it back in the freezer.

George gave Dylan a judging look before taking a nice swig, _God, I needed this._ He started going back to the living room but was stopped by Dylan’s hand on his shoulder. “Can I ask you a real quick question?” Dylan asked, glancing down at the floor. “Do you like hanging with us? If you don’t that’s fine, I’m just worried that you kinda don’t like them and I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-”

“I’m having a good time,” George interrupted him, stepping closer to his boyfriend. He didn’t really know how he felt about being around Aron and Jordon, but he didn’t wanna make Dylan feel bad. He gave Dylan a quick kiss, then nodded towards the living room. “Come on, it sounds like something weird is happening.”

Something weird was indeed happening. Jorel had rested his legs across Aron’s lap, and Jordon was whining at the both of them. “You’re fuckin’ gay, this is not fair!” Jordon said, now sitting up instead of lying on the floor. “I wanna cuddle too!” It was clear that the brownies had done their job. Aron looked at Jordon as if he were an annoying child. “You can’t fuckin fit on the couch with us, dumbass.”

Jorel smacked Aron’s shoulder. “Don’t be so mean, he’s desperate.” Aron narrowed his eyes at Jorel. “Bitch, do you know me?” Jorel sighed. “Okay, yes, but shut up.” Jordon groaned and flopped down onto his back. “You guys are fuckin’ dicks. Gay ass meanies.” Aron seemed to be ignoring Jordon. “Thought you like it when I use my mouth.” His attention was fully on Jorel. “I like it when you use that mouth for anything but talking,” Jorel said, sipping from the almost empty beer.

Dylan pressed his lips together, wishing he was anywhere but there. He and George sat back down on the floor, backs to the wall and as far as possible from Aron and Jorel and their weird conversation. Dylan rested his head against the wall, feeling the effects of the weed brownie take hold. George carefully sipped his whiskey, wanting to stay mostly sober since he still had to drive home at some point.

Jordon turned his attention from Aron and Jorel to George. “Which one of you tops?” He asked, blinking heavily. George turned to Dylan, hoping for an answer since he had no idea what topping was. Dylan just blushed and looked like he wanted to throw something at Jordon. “Fuck off, man,” was his answer. George tilted his head, taking another sip. “What's wrong?”

Aron snickered, apparently eavesdropping now. “Bitch doesn’t even know what that means, dude.” “What’s the big deal?” George asked, flicking his gaze between Dylan and Aron. “What does that mean?” Jorel snorted, “It's the opposite of what Aron is.” He smirked. Aron glared at Jorel, lightly smacking his shoulder. “You’re an ass,” He said, turning away from Jorel as much as he could when they shared a couch. Jorel grinned and looked away. “You take it up the ass,” he muttered under his breath.

Aron scoffed, deciding that was enough. “I’m going,” he said as he shoved Jorel’s legs off of him, and tried to stand up. Jorel grabbed his arm, tugging him back. “Babe, babe, come on, don’t be like that, babe, stay!” Aron stood still for a moment, considering his options, then sighed. He let Jorel tug him back to the couch, and at the last second flung himself on top of Jorel’s lap. “Now who’s on top, bitch!” Aron said triumphantly, spreading out on the couch so Jorel couldn’t move him off. “You’re fuckin’ heavy, that’s what you are,” Jorel said, despite knowing that Aron was all skin and bones.

Jordon looked at the two of them with a disgruntled expression. “Can you two take your gayness somewhere else?” Jorel flipped him the finger. “I live here, bitch. Go take your desperation somewhere else.” George leaned over to Dylan to quietly ask, “Are Aron and Jorel an item?” Dylan scoffed, patting George’s shoulder. “They’re just really good friends who fuck every other day. Very loudly, too. Usually after weed and some drinks”

“We can hear you, assholes,” Aron said. “And I can hear you too,” Dylan said. “Everyone can hear everyone, would you look at that.” Aron rolled his eyes. “You're just mad cause you didn't get to fuck your little boyfriend before we came over.” George blushed darkly and stared into his whiskey. Aron noticed. “Oh my god, what did you guys do?”

Jorel laughed, “Bro, I don't know what the fuck they did but Dyl definitely made George cum, you should've seen his face!” George groaned, ducking his head down. Dylan tightened his grip on George’s hand. “Guys, what the fuck did we say earlier?” Jordon rolled over onto his stomach. “I wish I could cum, guys. It’s been too long.” 

“It’s been like less than a day,” Aron said, nudging Jordon with his foot. “You have a goddamn hand.” Jordon pouted. “It's too boring just being alone with stale porn,” He complained. “Then get a damn date and don’t ruin it with your stupid bullshit,” Jorel said. “It’s very simple, Jordy.”

Aron cut in. “Or you could just…” He suddenly kissed Jorel, putting his hands on places they didn't belong. Jorel began kissing back, placing his hand on Aron’s thigh. Aron broke the kiss and smirked at Jordon. “And they’re all yours.” He winked at Jorel, who was blushing furiously. “Fuck you, Aron,” He muttered, crossing his arms. Aron patted Jorel’s cheek. “Later, baby.” He turned back to Jordon. “But if they refuse, like at all, then back the fuck away ‘cause rape is disgusting and we will be forced to beat the shit out of you.”

Jordon had shuffled back a few steps, sitting on his legs. “Ok.” He said simply. George softly nudged Dylan with his now-empty glass. “Can I have some more?” He asked while taking Dylan's hand. The familiar warmth was building in his stomach and his brain was getting a bit woozy. Dylan gave his hand a pat, looking at the empty glass. “You sure, Georgie? You wanna get drunk here?” George shook his head. “I’m not gonna get drunk,” He promised.

Dylan raised an eyebrow in doubt but did as he was asked and left to go get more whiskey for his adorably-tipsy boyfriend. Jordon came back from the land of inebriation to look at George with a weird grin. “So, you two never answered my question; Who tops?” George tilted his head with furrowed eyebrows. “I still don't know what that is.” Jordon chuckled, putting his hand near George's thigh. “It means, which one of you is on top of the other when sexy things are happening. Like if you were giving me a good handjob, you'd be a top cause you're dominating me,” He purred.

George looked to Aron and Jorel for help, but they were off in their own gay world. “I’m not answering that,” He told Jordon, staring at the floor. Anywhere except for the boy laying on the floor with his hand dangerously close to where it does not belong. “Come on, baby, you can tell me,” Jordon said, inching his hand closer to George’s thigh. “It’ll be our little secret. Is it you? Do you tell Dylan what to do like the boss you are?” George whined and scooted away from Jordon. “I don't wanna… Talk to you.” He slurred slightly.

A memory suddenly flashed through Jordon's blazed and drunk mind, making him frown. “Fine,” He slumped and laid on his back before rolling further away. Dylan re-entered the living room with the glass of whiskey and another drink, this one looking like orange juice but probably not. He said nothing about Jordon pouting damn near under the couch and went over to George. “I have your whiskey, and I also made a screwdriver. It’s vodka and orange juice if you wanna try it.”

George found his mood for drinking to be more or less gone by now, thanks to Jordon. He still said his thank you’s, and still tried the new drink. It tasted like extremely bitter orange juice and was not good. His nose scrunched up, earning a chuckle from Dylan. “You'll like it,” He simply said. George let out a small whine before drinking some more, the burn wasn't too bad this time but the taste was still undesired. He gave the drink back to Dylan, shaking his head. “I do not like that, not at all." 

“More for me, I guess,” Dylan said, taking the drink with a smile. He quickly finished off what was left of it, and set the glass on the floor. He looked over to Jordon who was almost asleep, and Aron and Jorel who seemed to be in their own world, intimately touching hands and laying against each other. Aron let out a soft giggle as he got up from the couch, tugging Jorel's arm with him. “Hurry up, I know you want me.” Jorel looked around, seeming to finally realize he was in the company of three other people. “Shit, baby, later. When we’re alone,” Jorel promised, hugging Aron tightly.

Dylan looked at the two of them with a blank gaze. “How gracious of you two to wait this time.” Aron turned his head to Dylan with a small glare. “I still wanna go to bed, the couch isn't comfy, Jay,” He complained. “Speaking of bed,” George murmured into Dylan’s shoulder. “I’m tired.” Dylan looked down to see the sleepy face of his boyfriend, cheeks flushed and eyes half open. “You wanna take a nap or somethin’?” Dylan asked, feeling a bit tired too. Weed takes a lot out of a person, you know. 

George nodded, inhaling deeply before rising to his feet. “Damn, I don't think I've drank this much in like… Ever.” He set his half-finished whiskey onto the floor, next to the empty beer bottles. Dylan was still sitting on the floor, staring up at George with wide eyes. “What is it?” George asked, wondering if there was a specific place he should’ve put his drink or something. Dylan just shook his head and slowly stood up. “You cursed. It was hot.” George blushed, even more, smiling at the floor, he was starting to love the praises that Dylan gave him.

Dylan walked over, taking George's hand and leading him back into the bedroom. Not too long after, the fuck buddies went into Jorel's room too. Dylan had George sit on the bed before pulling off George's shirt, humming in admiration as he trailed his fingers against George's bare sides. “So smooth.” He grinned. George inhaled sharply, rubbing his fingers against Dylan's bed sheets. “Th-thank you, Dylan.”

Dylan chuckled, kissing George's forehead. “So cute, I love it when you get all shy and meek. But it's even better when you take charge over me,” Dylan was biting his lip as he tugged off George's jeans. He crawled up to George so he could straddle him, leaning down for a kiss. George moaned into it, grateful for the familiar contact after being around strangers for so long. His hands found the hem of Dylan’s shirt and he carefully lifted it off.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” George murmured, trailing his fingers along Dylan’s chest. He leaned in for another kiss, slipping his tongue in without another thought. Dylan moaned a bit louder, making George worry about the other two in the bedroom next to them. “Are we making too much noise?” George asked, embarrassed. Dylan glanced at the direction of Jorel’s room and shook his head. “Those fuckers make more noise than we could ever, we’re fine. If anything, it’d be payback.”

George raised an eyebrow. “Is that an offer?” Dylan seemed to think for a moment, then smirked with a shrug. “Maybe, Georgie.” He trailed his fingers from George's collarbone to his chest, thumb reaching out to rub at the tense nipple. “You always get hard like this with me?” He asked, pinching softly. George gasped sharply, feeling movement in his boxers. “I…” Dylan chuckled, feeling George's dick against him.

Dylan moved off of George's lap as he pulled off his pants before getting back on. “George,” He breathed out, “I have to ask you something.” George tensed up further, holding Dylan's thighs. “Are you- do you want to… Ugh, this is embarrassing to ask.” Dylan's face was flushed darkly. “If we were to… Have _sex,_ would you rather be um, doing it or receiving it?” George froze, blushing impossibly darker. He looked to the floor, fidgeting with his hands. “I, um, haven’t… I don’t know? Are we- is that what’s gonna- why?”

Dylan quickly shook his head. “Not- not tonight! I just, in general. I like having consent.” George bit his lip, thinking back, _“I wanna touch you,” Dylan looked at George. “Can I?”_ George smiled, grateful that Dylan was considerate and always asked. George felt a wave of adoration and wrapped his arms around Dylan, hugging him tightly. “You’re really something special,” he said, reaching one hand up to weave around Dylan’s hair.

Dylan grinned, nuzzling into George's shoulder. “You’re special too,” Dylan spoke into George’s shoulder. “Let’s just fuckin’ sleep.” George released Dylan from the hug so they could get comfortable underneath the blanket. Dylan rested his head on George’s chest, one arm resting over George’s stomach, legs tangled. Dylan pressed soft kisses against George's collar before relaxing against him.

“I gotta ask, did you like my friends?” Dylan asked softly, not wanting to disturb the peace. George tensed a bit, not really knowing how to answer that. “I… I like you a lot more than your friends.”  Dylan looked up with a small pout. “Come on, George, you gotta tell me directly,” He whined. “I don’t hate them,” George said. “They weren’t awful, Dylan. It was just kinda weird being around them. Again, I like being around you a whole lot more.” Dylan sighed. “Fine, but I can tell you're not sayin’ somethin’.” He pouted. “Weed opens the third eye, ya know?”

George let out a low whine. “I don't like Jordon. Jorel and Aron seem ok when they're not being too inappropriate but I don't like Jordon.” _Don't tell him what happened, it's fine,_ George thought. Dylan nodded. “Ok, I'll be sure to have Jordon not here when you are.” He said simply. “Now it's time for sleepy cuddles.” Dylan made this point by nuzzling George's chest, making him chuckle. “Your mustache tickles.”

Dylan smiled and kissed George's chest. “We can play with that later. Good night, Georgie.” George felt relaxed again, rubbing Dylan's hair as his eyes shut. “Good night, Dyl.” 

\-----

Alarms suddenly went off in George's head, making him jolt up in a panic. He looked around the room that wasn't his as dread filled his body. “Oh no, no,” He repeated. Dylan woke up, confused and still half asleep. “Baby? What's wrong?” He slurred. George whipped his head to the clock Dylan had, red numbers reading 3:04 am.

“No! Sh-shoot!” George was on his feet, switching the light on. Dylan let out a groan. “The fuck…?” He blinked his eyes, rolling onto his side so he could see what the hell his boyfriend was doing at fuck o’clock in the morning. “Whats… gon on?” George barely spared him a glance before grabbing for his pants. “I have to get home, my dad’s going to _freak!”_ Dylan would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t so damn tired. “You can’t wait ‘til sunny?” He asked, lazily rubbing his eye.  

“I wasn’t supposed to be here this late!” George nearly shouted, his heart raced, lungs hurting from all the air being forced in. He pulled on his shirt. “Where are my shoes?!” Dylan groaned. “Front door.” George sighed, bringing his hands up to rub his eyes harshly. “I'll see you at work later.” He dashed out, leaving his boyfriend to sleep alone. 

George had always been one for rules but tonight was certainly an exception as he sped down the road, the usual 10 minute drive became a mear 6 minutes. George parked his car outside, as to not make anymore noise, before booking it to his front door, being quick with his key.

He held his breath despite his need to pant as he walked into the dark mansion. _Thank god, he's asleep._ George let out a long sigh of relief, all muscles relaxing.

Until the lights were turned on.

George snapped his head up, deer in headlights.

“George Arthur Ragan! What in God's name are you doing, coming here past midnight?!” Griffin shouted, shaking the whole house. George stood, shaking slightly, arms out in defense. “I- well Danny he… He um-”

“I have **had** it with these ‘Danny’ excuses! You and Daniel didn't even spend this much time together before!” Griffin raged. “I've seen your numbers, George, I know you're behind on your work. What, aren't you supposed to be taking over the firm but you can't even do your job?!” 

George didn't say a word. _You can't defy him. You're so stupid, did you really think you could trick him for so long?_

“I want you up in your damn room right now and I want to see you working **extra** hard tomorrow. I decided the other day to give you more space but you clearly need me to be behind you, don't you?!”

George looked to the floor before quickly going up the stairs and to his room.

_You can't defy him, you're all he has left of her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, Aron Kane Burns, a Latino, give this fanfiction the Brown Stamp of approval


	8. Chapter 8

The next day at work was more than a little tense. Griffin was breathing down George’s neck, meaning he couldn’t exactly interact with his boyfriend in the way he wanted to. It was exactly as Griffin had been trying to make this job all along: work, numbers, business, and more work on top of that. No breaks, no socializing with anyone else. Especially with the janitor, Griffin was still convinced was a thief.

There was a harsh knock on the door, and then it opened without permission. Griffin stepped inside, filling the room with his overbearing presence. He eyed the room once, squinting at every detail he deemed to be relevant, before settling on George with a subtle glare. “Are you working, George?” He asked for the thousandth time that day.

“Yes, Father,” George replied for the thousandth time that day. He wanted to say anything else - maybe something sarcastic, maybe outright telling Griffin to leave him alone. But he never did, because that isn’t what he does. “I was planning on taking a lunch break in fifteen minutes if that’s alright with you.” George was supposed to take his lunch break an hour ago.

“If you feel you have done enough work to warrant a lunch break, then yes,” Griffin said in that self-righteous tone that George hated. “ _I’ll_ be in my office, finishing up work that was meant to be done yesterday.” _By you_ was left unsaid, but George understood the implication. With that, Griffin left, shutting the door with more force than necessary.

George sighed, leaning back in his chair. _God, I hate it here._ All he wanted to do was go find Dylan and kiss him but that was just about the last thing he was allowed to do right now. He couldn’t even go find Dylan for his lunch break either since he didn’t know when Dylan took his breaks or if Griffin even allowed a proper lunch break for the custodial staff.

Just as George was wrapping up his work, there was a knock on his office door. “Cleaning crew!” A familiar voice called. George sighed, knowing that he couldn’t interact with his boyfriend. “Come in,” He replied in his business voice.

Sure enough, Dylan entered the office with his gray cart, a grin on his face. “How’d ya sleep? When you were at my place, at least.” He teased. George bit his tongue, _I should be on break now._ He said nothing back, he just bent his head down a bit so the janitor was out of his line of sight completely. Out of sight, out of mind. Except not really.

Dylan frowned, placing his cart near the bookshelf and taking out his rag and Windex. “You okay, Georgie?” He spayed the windows as he watched George. George pursed his lips, tightening his grip on his pencil and remaining silent. Dylan’s frown deepened, not appreciating being ignored right now. He finished cleaning the windows, then went over to George’s desk. He started carefully wiping down the little things on George’s desk, like his computer and stapler and shit. “Wonderful weather, ain’t it, Georgie?” He said, purposefully brushing George’s hand every chance he got. George simply kept writing.

“Damn,” Dylan murmured. “The silent treatment, Georgie? Really? Come on, talk to me.” George shook his head, not looking up from his papers. “I have to work, Dylan.” The janitor didn’t like that. “You can’t even take a break? Have you taken a single break today?” George didn’t respond, but apparently, he didn’t have to. Dylan’s frown faded, he was getting an idea. “I’ll help you have a break.”

He walked to George’s side, Dylan had a look that George couldn’t ignore. Dylan pushed George’s swivel chair to face him before dropping onto his knees. “What are you doing?” George asked, pushing himself away from Dylan a bit, eyes wide with uncertainty. “Why are you on your knees?”  Dylan shook his head, pulling the chair forward. “You ain’t gettin’ away from me.” He undid the buttons on George’s jeans, shoving them down to his knees. Dylan rubbed at George’s soft penis through the boxers. “You gonna keep quiet, babe?” He mocked.

George shoved Dylan’s hand away with a hiss, flicking his eyes at the door. “Not here, Dylan! This is the worst place to do this kind of stuff!” Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Now you got something to say to me? You fuckin’ love this and you know it.” Dylan yanked off his boxers, taking hold of the base of George’s dick. He jerked it softly before pushing it into his mouth. George gasped, one hand gripping the arm of his chair and the other burying itself in Dylan’s hair.

Dylan moaned around him, bobbing his head at a steady pace, reaching up to rub at George’s balls as he waited for him to get hard. George moaned, trying to remind himself to stay quiet. He knew this was wrong and that he could get in more trouble than imaginable for this… but that just made it hotter. George's cock took very little time to harden, dripping into Dylan's mouth with a shudder.

George tugged harshly at Dylan's hair, effectively pulling the janitor off with a “pop”. Dylan licked his lips, trying to lean back to take the twitching cock back into his mouth. George whined, “Dylan, you have to stop right now-!” He tensed with a squeak as he felt his balls being kneaded. George's grip weakened.

“Look at you, not convincing at all,” Dylan smirked, letting go of George's pair. “You're already dripping for me, like the virgin you are.” He gently squeezed George's cock, forcing more precum out before rubbing the tip, getting it wet in no time.

George's thighs twitched at each stimulation he got. He had his eyes shut tight, his hand shot up to clamp over his mouth as Dylan took him back in. George was bigger than average, that was for sure, but Dylan has had a lot of practice over the past four years. He took a second to push George's dick past his inactive gag reflex and into his throat, swallowing around him with a wet sound. Dylan bobbed his head, licking the tip with every pull-out.

George was holding back yells, he felt so close and his legs were quivering in pleasure. He whimpered before humping into Dylan's throat, balls hitting Dylan's chin. George’s hand fell off his mouth as he gasped, _Shit, I hurt him!_

Dylan quickly pulled back, a long string still connected him to George's cock, coughing. Dylan took a few seconds to breathe before looking up at George, panting with a tired grin. “Gimme a warning next time,” His voice was raspier, making George squirm. “Dylan, please, come on,” George murmured, he was so close.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Dylan said, wrapping his lips around the head of George's cock. He licked around harshly, sinking down before bobbing his head back up. Dylan took a breath before pushing all of George's dick into his mouth, his nose brushing against the dark hairs George had. It hurt just to keep it there, but God, it was such a rush of pleasure for Dylan.

George let out a strained groan, pushing Dylan's head back halfway off his dick. “Dylan!” He whined as he felt his orgasm, his thighs were tense as cum leaked out of his cock. George slouched over as he felt amazing waves of pleasure fill his senses, he was panting heavily. George looked at Dylan, who just pulled his softening dick out of his mouth with a smirk. “There, you’ve had a break.”

George frowned. “Wha-?” “Now you can tell me what's wrong.” Dylan pushed George's dick back into his boxers, pulling his jeans up for him. George sat there for a second, trying to regulate his breathing. This was unexpected in so many ways. Once George got his thoughts together, he noticed that Dylan had fixed him back up and was leaning on his desk. George finally let out a sigh and looked at Dylan. “My, uh, my dad’s been on my case lately. Even worse than usual, and coming home at three in the morning didn’t exactly help.”

“Is there any way I can help?” Dylan asked, reaching his hand out and placing it over George’s. George sighed, “Not really. My dad’s gonna want me at home 24/7.” Dylan frowned before smiling. “Why don't you just sneak me into your room?” He smirked, thinking dirty. George blushed brightly and chuckled. “Don't say it like that. I guess we could try since he doesn't ever come into my room after work. Even if he does, it’s usual for me to have my door locked so there wouldn't be any suspicion.” George smiled at the thought of having his boyfriend close while his dad was being unreasonable.

Dylan pushed off the desk. “Sounds like a plan, Georgie.” He cupped George’s cheek before kissing him softly. George set his hands on Dylan’s hips as he deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue in, frowning. “Why’s your mouth taste weird?” One look from Dylan told it all. _I just came in his mouth. Ew._ George pulled his sleeve over his hand and licked the fabric, trying to get the taste off his tongue. Dylan giggled, pulling George’s hand away from him. “You like being dirty and you know it.” He forcefully kissed George, rubbing his tongue against George’s.

George pulled away, grimacing from the bitter taste that was now all over his mouth. He licked his sleeve again and reached for the cup of water on his desk. He took a drink, half-glaring at Dylan over the plastic. “That’s gross, you’re gross.” Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you don't want me to suck you off anymore? ‘Cause that's what I'm hearing.” George tilted his head, staring at Dylan with an are-you-serious look. “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.” Dylan chuckled and sat on George’s lap. “Yeah, yeah, but you gotta get used to kissing me like that ‘cause you know I like dick.” George furrowed his eyebrows. “Must you say it like that?”

Dylan grinned and gave a small lick to George's cheek. “Of course!” He slid off George's lap and gathered his cleaning supplies. “Hate to leave my lil’ Georgie but I think I should, your dad gets salty if I'm not on-time with my schedule.” As much as George hated to let Dylan go, he knew that what the janitor said was true. “You still want me to sneak you into my house?” He asked. Dylan smiled “Yeah, I’ll text you when I'm ready to leave so we can get to your car.” The accountant nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” Dylan winked at him as he pushed the cart towards the door. “See you later, Georgie.” The janitor blew him a kiss before leaving.

Barely five minutes after Dylan left, there was a harsh knock on the door, then Griffin opened the door and stepped in. “Are you working, George?” He asked again. George fought the urge to roll his eyes, and nodded. “Yes.” Griffin looked around the room before humming with silent contempt and leaving the room. George let out a sigh. There were only a few more hours left in the workday, but it seemed like they were going to be the longest few hours of his life.

~

“You ready to go, Georgie?” Dylan asked, meeting George around the back of the building. George nodded, already heading towards his car. “Let’s just go, I don’t want my dad seeing us.” To say that George was nervous about this whole thing was an understatement. He’d never really snuck anyone into his room while his father was home. While he was scared of being caught - who knew what the consequences would be if his father found Dylan - the reward of Dylan being there for him was worth the risk. He liked being around Dylan more than he liked following his father’s rules, which was a first for George.

As the two of them got into George’s car and George drove away, Dylan relaxed against the seat. He reached his hand over and rested it over George’s, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be alright, Georgie. I know how to be extra sneaky.” He said with a wink. George shook his head with a small grin. “Hopefully, we won’t have to be super sneaky. My dad should be getting home after us, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And if he does see us, I’ll try and convince him he’s hallucinating or some shit,” Dylan said. George snorted, trying not to laugh because he had to keep his eyes on the road. “Not gonna lie, I’d love to see that.” Dylan giggled softly. “I bet I could do it too. I’m super convincing, in case you haven’t noticed.” He wiggled his eyebrows, turning himself so he could face George.

“If you say so,” George said, purposefully not looking at his boyfriend being ridiculous. “We’re here.” Dylan grinned at him as George pulled the car into the garage. “You gonna James Bond me into your room again?” George furrowed his brows and shut off the car. “James Bond you?” Dylan waved his hand. “You know, looking out for the maids again, being all sneaky and shit.”

George nodded, getting out of the car. “I’ll have to get some food too, I imagine you’re hungry. Is leftover pizza okay?” Dylan cocked his head at George. “You and your father eat take-out style pizza?” George sighed, taking Dylan’s hand and leading him into the house. “Just because we have money doesn’t mean we don’t have good taste. Pizza is pizza, and is good no matter what.” George led Dylan into the kitchen, nearly jumping when one of the maids was wiping the counter tops, facing away from them. Dylan immediately ducked behind a different counter, meekly looking up at George.

The maid turned and saw George. “Good afternoon, Mr. Ragan. Would you like me to cook you something?” George avoided looking down at Dylan. “No, thank you. I’m just going to grab some pizza and head up to my room.” The blonde maid had a look of disapproval for a moment before nodding. “Okay, let me know if you need anything.” She handed him the pizza box from the refrigerator before she went back to cleaning.  

George looked back at Dylan, trying to think of how he was going to get Dylan out of this situation. They just needed to get out of the kitchen and then they were safe to get to his room. “Hey um, I am expecting a package to arrive, would you go check the mail for me?” The blonde maid perked up as if realizing she forgot one of her chores. “Right away, Mr. Ragan!” She quickly went out through the connected dining room before going outside.

Dylan sighed in relief, getting up and tugging on George’s hand. “Let’s get going, Georgie.” He grinned. George nodded with a smile and lead Dylan up to his room. Luckily, they didn’t run into any more maids along the way. When they got to George’s room, Dylan plopped himself down on the bed. George sat down as well, a bit more carefully since he was carrying the pizza.

“Oh, crap, I should’ve brought napkins or something,” George said, not wanting pizza crumbs all over his bed. Dylan tilted his head at George. “You ain’t got tissues or some shit in your drawer?” George shook his head. “I don't get sick often.” Dylan snorted and reached out to pat George’s knee. “I meant for your dick, Georgie.” George blushed darkly, shivering slightly under Dylan’s touch. “I…” _usually go to the bathroom for that…_

Dylan laughed, leaning over George to kiss him. “You’re adorable.” George frowned, but it quickly turned into a smile. “You’re weird.” George set the box down and took a slice, he got up from his bed and sat at his desk. Dylan tilted his head. “What’re you doin’ over there?” George took a minute to chew before answering. “I don’t wanna get crumbs on the bed so I’m eating here.” Dylan considered his words for a moment, then took a slice of pizza for himself and scooted off the bed and onto the floor.

“You don’t have to sit on the floor, you know.” George felt bad for leaving his boyfriend on the floor like that, but apparently, Dylan didn’t mind. “It’s fine, Georgie, your floor is comfy.” George whined softly. “Why don’t you come over here?” Dylan groaned dramatically and stood up, crossing the room to George and plopping himself down on George’s lap. George jumped, almost dropping his pizza onto the floor. “I- I didn’t exactly mean like- like that.” Dylan chuckled, kissing George’s nose. “But you like it,” He hummed. George flushed, looking at his pizza instead of his cute boyfriend. “I never said that.” Dylan shifted his ass against George. “Your dick did,” He said simply.

George blushed even more and tried to ignore the fact that Dylan was very right. “I-I…” Dylan giggled, kissing Georges lips softly. “I know. I’m just that great.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time with lots of care and the forbidden L word

After the two of them ate, they left the pizza box abandoned on the desk in favor of making out. Dylan rolled his hips against George as he dominated the kiss, tugging on George's short hair. George moaned, pulling back to breathe. “I really like it when you do that.” He gripped Dylan's hips as he leaned in to kiss his neck. Dylan's chuckled softly, licking his lip. “Don't bite me too hard, Georgie, I won't be able to hold back if you do.” He moaned softly at the end.

George shuddered softly as he nibbled on the dark bruise that hadn't healed yet. “I wouldn't be too opposed to that. My father’s office is on the third floor, he can’t hear anything that goes on down here.” George’s lip curled into a smirk, everything was going his way. Dylan chuckled, “Is lil’ Georgie gettin’ naughty on me?” The Latino rubbed his ass against the growing erection that was poking at him. George moaned, biting down on the junction of Dylan’s neck. “You didn’t get to cum earlier, right? I wanna… try to get you off.” George’s face was bright red as he spoke, he wanted to be bold and use the time they had for pleasure and intimacy.

Dylan moaned softly as he thought back to the blow job he gave George. _God, he was so sexy, holding back his moans._ “I didn’t, I think you really owe me.” He smirked and got off George’s lap. “Get on the bed and take off your clothes.” George gulped and compiled, sitting on the edge of the bed to shuffle his jeans off before pulling off his shirt. He moved to the middle of the bed and laid down on his back before biting his lip. Dylan watched with lust as George looked up at Dylan and tugged off his boxers while still on his back, shaking his hips until the boxers were around his ankles.

Dylan growled softly, pulling the boxers off of George. “Shit, lil’ Georgie _is_ gettin’ naughty on me.” He quickly yanked off his own clothes before crawling over George, seating himself between his thighs. George licked his lips. “Do you… like it?” Dylan leaned down and kiss George hungrily, reaching to the side to grab George’s hand. Their fingers locked together tightly as George bucked his hips up. “I really like this.” Dylan breathed out. George smiled, squeezing Dylan’s hand. “I like it too,” George said softly. “I really want to please you, Dylan,” George bit his lip.

Dylan hummed. “I know you do, but we have to talk first.” George frowned. “Talk?” Dylan nodded, leaning back as he sat on his legs, getting comfortable. “I asked you this the other day but we didn’t get very far,” Dylan took George hand, the accountant sat up, cupping it close to their chests. “When we have your first time, do you want to give or receive?”

George flushed darkly. “I… I dunno…” His confidence shank a bit. Dylan tilted his head and smirked a little. “How about I take the lead this time, ya know, show you how it’s done and then later, you can give it to me?” George swallowed, biting his lip in anticipation. “Are we really gonna do this?” He asked, feeling both excited and insanely nervous about giving himself to Dylan to like that.

Dylan leaned back slightly, furrowing his eyebrows in concern. “Do you not want to? We don’t have to, I can wait-” George shut him up with a kiss, nibbling the janitor’s lip a bit before pulling away. “I want to do this,” He said firmly. “I want you.” And damn if Dylan would ever say no to George like that. Dylan groaned softly and let go of George’s hand. “I gotta prep you real good before we do anything; where’s your lotion?” George sucked on his bottom lip. “Drawer.” He let himself fall back on the bed as his boyfriend opened up the bedside drawer, easily finding the bottle of lotion.

Dylan chuckled, “I knew you jerked it, even now.” George whined, “Shut it, it just happens.” Dylan rubbed his hands together, warming them up and pushing lotion onto two fingers. George gulped. “Uh, how much will it hurt?” Dylan looked down at the tight puckered hole, biting his lip. “I’m not gonna lie, George, it’s gonna hurt a lot, but if I prep you good enough then you’ll be ok. But it is gonna hurt, babe.” George’s breath hitched as Dylan rubbed his lotioned fingers against his innocent ass hole. “Relax, just close your eyes and tell me if it hurts too much.” George nodded, shutting his eyes tightly.

Dylan lathered his fingers in lotion and teased George's hole, circling his tip against the sensitive skin. “Get ready,” Dylan gave George a kiss on the chest before pushing the first finger in. George tensed, pushing his chest up as a small groan left his mouth. The stretch didn't hurt but it was sure different than what he's ever felt. Dylan moved his finger around, testing the waters. George inhaled sharply. “That feels… Weird…” Dylan smiled softly and pushed in his second finger, “It'll feel good soon.” George's back arched, his ass clenching softly against the digits. He was starting to feel the stretch.

Dylan moved his fingers, scissoring, pushing against the tight walls. George whined, “Dyl- Dylan,” he bit his lip hard. Dylan's cock leaked at the sight of George; hard, on his back, and taking his fingers up the ass. “This'll hurt, Georgie,” Dylan warned before pressing in a third finger, quickly using all three to push against George's ass. George's legs clenched around him and he groaned. “Oh...okay.” Dylan made his fingers into a line, forcing George's walls wide, thrusting them in. George flinched as Dylan swirled them around, stretching him painfully. “It hurts, Dylan.” George grit his teeth, trying to not let his muscles clench against Dylan.

Dylan bit his lip, he knew he had to help George out. George gasped and pushed back against the fingers, suddenly, moaning softly. His dick jumped as Dylan massaging a certain part of his insides. “A-ahh ah- oh!” Dylan leaned down and licked up the precum that had been dripping down for a while. “G-GOSH!” George moaned, tightening around Dylan as he bucked his hips. Dylan suckled lightly on the tip, wanting George to focus on his fingers. He moved his fingers faster against George's prostate, making him squirm and shudder in bliss while letting out small cries.

“Dylan, _mm_ , p-please, could you..?” He felt intoxicated as all he could focus on was the strong pleasure of Dylan's fingers in him. “P-put it in me, please,” he stuttered, overcome with the desire to be even closer to Dylan.

Dylan bit his lip. “You sure? You're still really tight against me,” he emphasized his point by spreading his fingers out against him. George whined, “I-I can take it!” Dylan raised an eyebrow, smirking in amusement. “Alrighty,” he gently pulled out his fingers. George groaned and felt open from the stretch. Dylan stepped off the bed for a moment to pick up his work uniform, reaching into the breast pocket and pulling out a condom. George blushed darkly, nearly laughing. “You keep _that_ in _there_?”

Dylan tore open the wrapping. “A guy has gotta be prepared,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. George sat up a little, enough to be able to watch Dylan roll on the condom. He chewed on his bottom lip as Dylan rubbed more lotion against his ass hole. “God, this is really happening.” George looked at Dylan with slight fear but overall excitement. Dylan smiled and took George's left hand into his own, interwinding their fingers together. “It is,” he smiled.

A soft buzz interrupted them. George groaned, “Damn phone. Can you check it? It's probably my dad.” Dylan leaned over to look at the screen that was on the nightstand.

**Dad: Sharon and I are going to a restaurant then a movie. We'll be back in a few hours**

Dylan glanced out the window just in time to see a VERY nice mustang leave the driveway. George picked up on the situation. “He's gone?” Dylan reached down and jerked George's dick off. “I've got you to myself, no reason to hold back,” he purred. George squeezed Dylan's hand as he relaxed under his touch. “Give it to me, Dylan.”

Dylan used his free hand to push into George’s ass, the wrapped head slipping in as George clutched Dylan’s hand, toes curled. “You got this, baby, breathe,” Dylan said softly. George gasped softly, legs spreading further, twitching. “It hurts, it feels weird,” he whined. Dylan had to hold himself back, he hadn’t fucked a virgin in at least a year and George squeezed amazingly around his cock, almost too much.

Dylan grunted as he tried to force himself to be slow but that really wasn’t easy. George’s ass tightened around Dylan’s cock as he let out a sharp cry. “Dylan, stop!” Dylan’s eyes widened and he immediately pulled back slightly as he watched his boyfriend squirm and whimper.

George laid with his arm covering his eyes, panting hard in pain, his left hand abandoned Dylan’s in favor of clutching the sheets. “God, oh god, it hurts,” George whimpered softly. Dylan bit his lip before leaning down and kissing George’s chest. George let out a small yelp as Dylan’s lips rubbed against his nipple.

“A-ah…” Dylan lapped at the nipple, rubbing his tongue harshly against the sensitive skin, taking time to bite at it too. George tensed, moaning out in bliss with small whines and his hips squirmed, giving the two friction. “Th-thanks for that,” George said, panting softer, “you can keep going.”

Dylan groaned softly as he pushed in further. It took quite a bit of coaxing, but as soon as Dylan bottomed out, he started moving. George’s hands were at his side, clutching the sheets with his back arched. His eyebrows furrowed together as he let out a little groan followed by a whine.

Dylan rested his hands on George’s shoulders as he slowly pulled back before humping in. Dylan had a look of bliss, George was so tight around him, even the smallest movements brought amazing pleasure. George shut his eyes tightly and let out a small cry, his cock strained up, leaking heavily. “Dylan, fuck me!”

George cussing turned Dylan the Hell on. Dylan moved his hips faster, his shaft rubbing roughly against George’s walls. The condom made everything slicker, less painful for each of them. George threw his head back, moaning loudly, pushing back against Dylan’s thrusts. Dylan’s balls slapped against George’s cheeks as he clutched George’s hips, bringing him closer.

“Dylan,” George cried, “oh god, fuck! Please,” he pleaded, not knowing what he wanted but really needing it.

Dylan growled softly before pulling out. George let out a groan, “Why- why’re you-?” Dylan got off the bed and pulled George by his hips to the very edge. George’s legs were pulled around Dylan as he stared in shock before Dylan plunged back in, harder than before. “FUCK!” Dylan was practically an animal, digging his nails into George as he let out deep moans.

George arched his back off the bed, moaning loudly, his usual deep voice was reduced to submissive cries. “Dylan! Dylan, don’t stop! Oh fuck, don’t stop!” He could hardly speak, all he could think about was the hot dick filling his virgin ass so well. Dylan’s chest was full of sweat as he pushed himself to keep going. Just being inside George made him want to cum, he was surprised George hadn’t already came.

Dylan hit a particular spot that made George’s hole absolutely _clench_ around him. “Shit, Georgie! You’re so fuckin- god, so fucking good,” Dylan sputtered out, George responding with a cry. George opened his hazy eyes, both arms reaching for Dylan’s arms. Dylan tiredly smirked as George tried to tug him closer while Dylan was still thrusting in him. He complied and leaned over him, panting against George’s neck.

George moaned helplessly as he put his hands on Dylan’s back, scratching down to Dylan’s ass. “GEORGE!” Dylan’s thrusts became very sloppy, his hips staggering. The burn on his back was too much. Dylan’s balls clenched before he pushed deeply into George, emptying into the condom with a low growl. “Oh god, Dylan,” George shouted, feeling the hot latex against his prostate before coming hard onto his pelvis.

George withered and whined, legs falling from Dylan’s sides. “Dylan…” He panted out. Dylan simply slouched over George before gently pulling out, tying and tossing the condom into the small bin by the wall. Dylan let out an exhausted breath before plopping onto the bed, head hitting the pillow. George whined softly, wincing in pain as he tried to crawl up to Dylan. “D- Dyl,” George’s face was red as he made grabby hands like a child. Dylan chuckled, helping George to lay at his side.

Dylan smiled as George snuggled up to his chest. “How was that for a first time?” He asked, teasingly. George chuckled softly, reaching for Dylan’s left hand, holding it sweetly. “My butt feels weird,” George shyly replied, biting his lip, “but it felt really n-nice.” Dylan chuckled, kissing George’s head. “God, you’re hot,” Dylan smirked to himself. “I’m the luckiest motherfucker on the planet, you know that?”

George blushed darker and bit his lip. “I guess I’m super lucky too.” Dylan leaned in, kissing George sweetly. George pulled back and nuzzled into Dylan's neck. “I uh, I have a question,” George said, “why did you use a condom? I mean, I know I could possibly get an STD from you or something, but why use it?” He looked curious.

Dylan chuckled, cupping George's cheek. “I used it so I wouldn't tear your ass on the first go. Ya see, the condom put a smooth covering over me so it wasn't as painful as it could've been.” He smiled. “I did it for you.” George's eyes widened as he blushed darkly, letting out a shy laugh. “God, I feel like some high school girl. You make me feel so… Cared for.” He hugged Dylan's side. “Thank you.”

Dylan hugged back, rubbing George's arm. “Don't thank me for loving- I mean… Caring for you.” Dylan bit his lip, _Shit! Too soon…_ George stared up at Dylan, blue eyes filled with wonder and innocence. He squeezed Dylan’s hand gently with a shy smile. “I love you, Dylan.” Dylan gulped.

_“I love you, master,” Dylan smiled, resting his head against the other’s bare chest. “That’s nice,” he shrugged. They’d been like this for months now and that’s all Dylan ever got out of him. Well, besides sex, drugs, and alcohol. “When’re you graduating, again? He asked, lighting his cigarette. “Few more weeks! Then I’ll tell my mom about moving in with a ‘friend’,” Dylan giggled at the end. He smirked, “Nice, we’ll be able to play any time we want, then.”_  


“I love you too, Goerge.”


End file.
